"His heart could not stand the strain. That is the great peril in pneumonia," she heard the doctor murmur. "He is dead," she cried, in a horrified outburst, and she looked up at the pitying group with the gaze of an afflicted lioness. She caught sight of Pauline smiling through her tears--that same unprotesting, submissive smile--and holding out her hands to her. Selma, rising, turned away, and as her sister-in-law sought to put her arm about her, evaded the caress. "No--no," she said. Then facing her, added, with aggrieved conviction: "I cannot believe that Wilbur's death was necessary. Why was not something energetic done?" Pauline flushed, but, ascribing the calumny to distress, she held her peace, and said, simply: "Sh! dear. You will understand better by and by." BOOK III. THE SUCCESS CHAPTER I. It had never occurred to Selma that she might lose her husband. Even with his shortcomings he was so important to her from the point of view of support, and her scheme of life was so interwoven with his, she had taken for granted that he would live as long as she desired. She felt that destiny had a second time been signally cruel to her, and that she was drinking deeply of the cup of sorrow. She was convinced that Wilbur, had he lived, would have moved presently to Benham, in accordance with her desire, and that they would then have been completely happy again. Instead he was dead and under the sod, and she was left to face the world with no means save $5,000 from his life insurance and the natural gifts and soul which God had given her.