From the chapter "Playing pilgrims" of Little Women Elizabeth, or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her `Little Miss Tranquillity', and the name suited her excellently, for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved.   From the chapter "Beth's Secret" of Good Wives She could not say, "I'm glad to go", for life was very sweet to her; she could only sob out, "I try to be willing", while she held fast to Jo, as the first bitter wave of this great sorrow broke over them together.   "I only mean to say that I have a feeling that it never was intended I should live long. I'm not like the rest of you; I never made any plans about what I'd do when I grew up; I never thought of being married, as you all did. I couldn't seem to imagine myself anything but stupid little Beth trotting about at home, of no use anywhere but there. I never wanted to go away, and the hard part now is leaving you all. I'm not afraid, but it seems as if I should be homesick for you even in heaven."   From the chapter "The valley of the shadow" of Good Wives Here, cherished like a household saint in its shrine, sat Beth, tranquil and busy as ever; for nothing could change the sweet, unselfish nature, and even while preparing to leave life, she tried to make it happier for thoose who should remain behind.   MY BETH (poem Jo wrote to Beth during her illness) Sitting patient in the shadow    Till the blessed light shall come, A serene and saintly presence    Sanctifies our troubled home. Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows     Break like ripples on the strand Of the deep and solemn river    Where her willing feet now stand.   O my sister, passing from me,    Out of human care and strife, Leave me, as a gift, those virtues    Which have beautified your life. Dear, bequeath me that great patience    Which has power to sustain A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit    In its prison-house of pain.   Give me, for I need it sorely,    Of that courage, wise and sweet, Which has made the path of duty    Green beneath your willing feet. Give me that unselfish nature,    That with charity devine Can pardon wrong for love's dear sake     Meek heart, forgive me mine!   Thus our parting daily loseth     Something of its bitter pain, And while learning this hard lesson,     My great loss becomes my gain. For the touch of grief will render    My wild nature more serene, Give to life new aspirations,     A new trust in the unseen.   Henceforth, safe across the river,     I shall see forever more A beloved, household spirit     Waiting for me on the shore. Hope and faith, born of my sorrow,    Guardian angels shall become, And the sister gone before me     By their hands shall lead me home.