The Irresistible¹ Power of Love.

Need we remark that there was a great deal of embracing on the part of Di and her nurse when the former returned home? The child was an affectionate creature as well as passionate². The nurse, Mrs Screwbury, was also affectionate without being passionate. Poor Diana had never known a mother’s love or care; but good, steady, stout³ Mrs Screwbury did what in her lay to fill the place of mother.

Sir Richard filled the place of father pretty much as a lamp-post might have done had it owned a child. He illuminated⁴ her to some extent—explained things in general, stiffly, and shed a feeble ray around himself; but his light did not extend far. He was proud of her, however, and very fond of her—when good. When not good, he was—or rather had been—in the habit of dismissing her to the nursery.

Nevertheless, the child exercised very considerable and ever-increasing influence over her father; for, although stiff, the knight⁵ was by no means destitute⁶ of natural affection, and sometimes observed, with moist eyes, strong traces of resemblance to his lost wife in the beautiful child. Indeed, as years advanced, he became a more and more obedient father, and was obviously on the high road to abject⁷ slavery.

“Papa,” said Di, while they were at luncheon⁸ that day, not long after the accident, “I am so sorry for that poor policeman. It seems such a dreadful thing to have actually jumped upon him! and oh! you should have heard his poor head hit the pavement, and seen his pretty helmet go spinning along like a boy’s top, ever so far. I wonder it didn’t kill him. I’m so sorry.”

Di emphasised her sorrow by laughing, for she had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the memory of the spinning helmet was strong upon her just then.

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