“Elizabeth Erne!” cried Jane Withersteen. “I loved your mother and I see her in you!” What had been incredible from the lips of men became, in the tone, look, and gesture of a woman, a wonderful truth for Bess. With little tremblings of all her slender body she rocked to and fro on her knees. The yearning wistfulness of her eyes changed to solemn splendor of joy. She believed. She was realizing happiness. And as the process of thought was slow, so were the variations of her expression. Her eyes reflected the transformation of her soul. Dark, brooding, hopeless belief—clouds of gloom—drifted, paled, vanished in glorious light. An exquisite rose flush—a glow—shone from her face as she slowly began to rise from her knees. A spirit uplifted her. All that she had held as base dropped from her. Venters watched her in joy too deep for words. By it he divined something of what Lassiter’s revelation meant to Bess, but he knew he could only faintly understand. That moment when she seemed to be lifted by some spiritual transfiguration was the most beautiful moment of his life. She stood with parted, quivering lips, with hands tightly clasping the locket to her heaving breast. A new conscious pride of worth dignified the old wild, free grace and poise. “Uncle Jim!” she said, tremulously, with a different smile from any Venters had ever seen on her face. Lassiter took her into his arms. “I reckon. It’s powerful fine to hear that,” replied Lassiter, unsteadily. Venters, feeling his eyes grow hot and wet, turned away, and found himself looking at Jane Withersteen. He had almost forgotten her presence. Tenderness and sympathy were fast hiding traces of her agitation. Venters read her mind—felt the reaction of her noble heart—saw the joy she was beginning to feel at the happiness of others. And suddenly blinded, choked by his emotions, he turned from her also. He knew what she would do presently; she would make some magnificent amend for her anger; she would give some manifestation of her love; probably all in a moment, as she had loved Milly Erne, so would she love Elizabeth Erne. “’Pears to me, folks, that we’d better talk a little serious now,” remarked Lassiter, at length. “Time flies.” “You’re right,” replied Venters, instantly. “I’d forgotten time—place—danger. Lassiter, you’re riding away. Jane’s leaving Withersteen House?” “Forever,” replied Jane. “I fired Withersteen House,” said Lassiter. “Dyer?” questioned Venters, sharply. “I reckon where Dyer’s gone there won’t be any kidnappin’ of girls.” “Ah! I knew it. I told Judkins—And Tull?” went on Venters, passionately. “Tull wasn’t around when I broke loose. By now he’s likely on our trail with his riders.” “Lassiter, you’re going into the Pass to hide till all this storm blows over?” “I reckon that’s Jane’s idea. I’m thinkin’ the storm’ll be a powerful long time blowin’ over. I was comin’ to join you in Surprise Valley. You’ll go back now with me?”