xpected that it should, seeing that man is born to trouble,
and that happiness is known to be as fleeting as time or beauty or any
other good thing.

When Eustace Daintree had been married five years, his father died,
and his mother, accepting his warmly tendered invitation to come to
Sutton-in-the-Wold upon a long visit, took up her abode in the pleasant
vicarage-house.

Her visit was long indeed. In a weak moment her son consented to her
urgent request to be allowed to subscribe her quota to the household
expenses--this was as good as giving her a ninety-nine years' lease of
her quarters. The thin end of the wedge thus inserted, Mrs. Daintree
_mere_ became immovable as the church tower or the kitchen chimney, and
the doomed members of the family began to understand that nothing short
of death itself was likely to terminate the old lady's residence amongst
them. For the future her son's house became her home.

But, even thus, things were not at their worst. Marion Daintree was a
soft-hearted, gentle-mannered little woman. It cannot be said that she
regarded the permanent instalment of her mother-in-law in her home with
pleasurable feelings; she would have been more than human had she done
so. But then she was unfeignedly fond of her husband, and desired so
earnestly to make his home happy that, not seeing her way to oust the
intruder without a warfare which would have distressed him, she
determined to make the best of the situation, and to preserve the
family peace and concord at all risks.

She succeeded in her praiseworthy efforts, but at what cost no one but
herself ever knew. Marion's whole life became one propitiatory sacrifice
to her mother-in-law. To propitiate Mrs. Daintree was a very simple
matter. Bearing in mind that her leading characteristics were a bad
temper and an ungovernable desire to ride rough-shod over the feelings of
all those who came into contact with her, in order to secure her favour
it was only necessary to study her moods, and to allow her to tread you
under foot as much as her soul desired. Provided that she had her own way
in these little matters, Mrs. Daintree became an amiable old lady. Marion
did all that was needful; figuratively speaking, she laid down in the
dust before her, and the Juggernaut of her fate consented to be appeased
by the lowly attitude, and crushed its way triumphantly over her fallen
body.

Thus Marion accepted her fate, and peace was preserved in her husband's