erfect, understanding.

The result of this with Hugh was that he came to consult her about
everything, about his plans, his schemes, his books, his beliefs. He
read all his writings aloud to her, and deferred much to her frankly
critical mind and her deeply human insight. At the time when he was
tending towards Rome, she accompanied him every step of the way, though
never disguising from him her own differences of opinion and belief. It
was due to her that he suspended his decision, read books, consulted
friends, gave the old tradition full weight; he never had the misery of
feeling that she was overcome by a helpless distress, because she never
attempted to influence any one of us away from any course we thought it
right to pursue. She did not conceal her opinion, but wished Hugh to
make up his own mind, believing that everyone must do that, and that the
only chance of happiness lies there.

[Illustration: _Photo by H. Walter Barnett, 12 Knightsbridge, S.W._

MRS. BENSON

MAY, 1910]

There was no one in the world whom he so regarded and admired and loved;
but yet it was not merely a tender and deferential sentiment. He laid
his mind open before her, and it was safe to do that, because my mother
never had any wish to prevail by sentiment or by claiming loyalty. He
knew that she would be perfectly candid too, with love waiting behind
all conflict of opinion. And thus their relation was the most perfect
that could be imagined, because he knew that he could speak and act with
entire freedom, while he recognised the breadth and strength of her
mind, and the insight of her love. No one can really understand Hugh's
life without a knowledge of what my mother was to him--an equal friend,
a trusted adviser, a candid critic, and a tender mother as well. And
even when he went his own way, as he did about health and work, though
she foresaw only too clearly what the end might be, and indeed what it
actually was, she always recognised that he had a right to live as he
chose and to work as he desired. She was not in the least blind to his
lesser faults of temperament, nor did she ever construct an artificial
image of him. My family has, I have no doubt, an unusual freedom of
mutual criticism. I do not think we have ever felt it to be disloyal to
see each other in a clear light. But I am inclined to believe that the
affection which subsists without the necessity of cherishing illusions,
has a solidity about it which more purely s