Pneumonia, the physician had named the illness. He came often by boat from Kalispell and remained for several hours each time. Bess would not permit her place to be supplanted by a nurse so long as the physician approved of her work. In fact, he told Henry West, that no one could do better nor more than Miss Fletcher. Yet, when he saw that the girl was growing thin and pale, tired from the hard work of nursing, and worn because of the mental strain, he tried to force her to desist lest she should become ill. With a look of entreaty in her brown eyes and a determined smile upon her firm lips she said that no one could attend a Mother like a daughter. When the first snow came late one November day, filling all the land with purity, crowning every rock with softness, clothing each outstretched limb on pine and fir with a garment of whitest down, there also came a change in the sick-room. Mrs. West had lain in a profound slumber for several hours, and when she awoke her mind was cleared of the mist. She was too weak to move and very faintly came the words, “Henry—Bess,” as her eyes moved to the two silent watchers on either side of the bed. Oh, the joyous looks of understanding which these two exchanged, to know that after all, their care and watching and waiting had been rewarded! Weeks followed. Mrs. West was propped up against her pillow for a short time on Christmas day, when the Yuletide was marked with decorations of beautiful Oregon grape and long sprays of kinnikinick which Bess had dug from beneath the snow and placed artistically in the sick-room. Bess sang, at her request, one of her beautiful songs. Tokens of remembrance came from James and Berenice Morton, which filled the girl with sadness and loneliness. Toward evening, as she went out to refresh herself with a short ride, she discovered a beautiful, new saddle and bridle upon her horse. When at last the long, anxious winter gave place to promising springtime, Mrs. West slowly convalesced from her tedious illness. May came with calling birds, the tender greens, the soft air at noon-day, bringing strength to her each day. Bess, too, was growing rosy cheeked and strong from her long rides in the fresh, pure air. She seemed to be as happy and vivacious as when she had come to _HW_ Ranch a year before. The ordeal of Mrs. West’s illness had crowded out her own painful experience and had made her sweeter, stronger, better than she ever had been before. When bitter moments of remembrance occurred to her she fought out her misery alone, and no other eyes ever saw her pain or knew that the sting was not wholly gone. Once James had written her that he had seen Dave Davis—or rather Dayton Davies—in New York; that at first he had not recognized him so changed and dissolute was his appearance.