e had died
childless--went, by the provisions of her father's will, to a distant
cousin, but her jewels she left to Beth. The following afternoon Mr.
Perth read the funeral service, and they lowered the lovely burden in
the shadow of the pines at the corner of the Briarsfield church-yard.
There in that quiet village she had first seen him she loved. After all
her gay social life she sought its quiet at last, and the stars of that
summer night looked down on her new-made grave.

The following day Mr. Perth laid a colored envelope from a large
publishing firm in Beth's lap. They had accepted her last story for a
good round sum, accompanied by most flattering words of encouragement.
As she read the commendatory words, she smiled at the thought of having
at least one talent to use in her Master's service. Yes, Beth Woodburn
of Briarsfield would be famous after all. It was no vain dream of her
childhood.

Four weeks passed and Beth had finished her preparations for returning
to college in the fall. In a few weeks she would be leaving May and the
dear old parsonage, but she would be glad to be back at 'Varsity again.
There came a day of heavy rain, and she went out on an errand of charity
for May. When she returned, late in the afternoon, she heard Mr. Perth
talking to someone in the study, but that was nothing unusual. The rain
was just ceasing, and the sun suddenly broke through the clouds, filling
all the west with glory. Beth went down into the garden to drink in the
beauty. Rugged clouds stood out like hills of fire fringed with gold,
and the great sea of purple and crimson overhead died away in the soft
flush of the east, while the wet foliage of the trees and gardens shone
like gold beneath the clouds. It was glorious! She had never seen
anything like it before. Look! there were two clouds of flame parting
about the sunset like a gateway into the beyond, and within all looked
peaceful and golden. Somehow it made her think of Marie. Poor Marie!
Why had Clarence's love for her been unreal? Why could she not have
lived and they been happy together? Love and suffering! And what had
love brought to her? Only pain. She thought of Arthur, too. Perhaps he
was happiest of all. He seemed to have forgotten. But she--ah, she could
never forget! Yet, "Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy
sight." And she pulled a bunch of fall flowers from the bush at her
side, careless of the rain-drops that shook on her bare head as she