hardly anybody
went to see her except mother and Mrs. Lynde. Jordan made her this
garden and she was crazy about it and spent most of her time in it. She
wasn't much of a housekeeper but she had a knack with flowers. And then
she got sick. Mother says she thinks she was in consumption before she
ever came here. She never really laid up but just grew weaker and weaker
all the time. Jordan wouldn't have anybody to wait on her. He did it all
himself and mother says he was as tender and gentle as a woman. Every
day he'd wrap her in a shawl and carry her out to the garden and she'd
lie there on a bench quite happy. They say she used to make Jordan kneel
down by her every night and morning and pray with her that she might die
out in the garden when the time came. And her prayer was answered. One
day Jordan carried her out to the bench and then he picked all the roses
that were out and heaped them over her; and she just smiled up at him
. . . and closed her eyes . . . and that," concluded Diana softly, "was
the end."

"Oh, what a dear story," sighed Anne, wiping away her tears.

"What became of Jordan?" asked Priscilla.

"He sold the farm after Hester died and went back to Boston. Mr. Jabez
Sloane bought the farm and hauled the little house out to the road.
Jordan died about ten years after and he was brought home and buried
beside Hester."

"I can't understand how she could have wanted to live back here, away
from everything," said Jane.

"Oh, I can easily understand THAT," said Anne thoughtfully. "I wouldn't
want it myself for a steady thing, because, although I love the fields
and woods, I love people too. But I can understand it in Hester. She
was tired to death of the noise of the big city and the crowds of people
always coming and going and caring nothing for her. She just wanted to
escape from it all to some still, green, friendly place where she could
rest. And she got just what she wanted, which is something very few
people do, I believe. She had four beautiful years before she died. . .
four years of perfect happiness, so I think she was to be envied more
than pitied. And then to shut your eyes and fall asleep among roses,
with the one you loved best on earth smiling down at you . . . oh, I think
it was beautiful!"

"She set out those cherry trees over there," said Diana. "She told
mother she'd never live to eat their fruit, but she wanted to think that
something she had planted would go on living and helping