Hugh | Page 7

after
luncheon, when Hugh, in a little black velvet suit, his flaxen hair
brushed till it gleamed with radiance, his face the picture of innocence,
bearing the Bible, a very image of early piety, entered the room, and
going up to his godfather, said with his little stammer: "Tha-a-ank you,
Godpapa, for this beautiful Bible! will you read me some of it?"
Mr. Penny beamed with delight, and took the Bible. My mother rose to
leave the room, feeling almost unworthy of being present at so sacred
an interview, but as she reached the door, she heard Mr. Penny say:

"And what shall I read about?" "The De-e-evil!" said Hugh without the
least hesitation. My mother closed the door and came back.
There was one member of our family circle for whom Hugh did
undoubtedly cherish a very deep and tender affection from the time
when his affections first awoke--this was for the beloved Beth, the old
family nurse. Beth became nurse-maid to my grandmother, Mrs.
Sidgwick, as a young girl; and the first of her nurslings, whom she
tended through an attack of smallpox, catching the complaint herself,
was my uncle, William Sidgwick, still alive as a vigorous octogenarian.
Henry Sidgwick, Arthur Sidgwick, and my mother were all under
Beth's care. Then she came on with my mother to Wellington College
and nursed us all with the simplest and sweetest goodness and devotion.
For Hugh, as the last of her "children," she had the tenderest love, and
lavished her care, and indeed her money, on him. When we were all
dispersed for a time after my father's death, Beth went to her Yorkshire
relations, and pined away in separation from her dear ones. Hugh
returned alone and earlier than the rest, and Beth could bear it no longer,
but came up from Yorkshire just to get a glimpse of Hugh at a station
in London as he passed through, had a few words with him and a kiss,
and gave him some little presents which she thought he might like,
returning to Yorkshire tired out but comforted. I have always thought
that little journey one of the most touching and beautiful acts of love
and service I have ever heard of. She was nearly eighty at the time.
[Illustration: Photo by R. Slingsby, Lincoln
ROBERT HUGH BENSON AND BETH
AT THE CHANCERY, LINCOLN
IN 1876. AGED 5]
In early days she watched over Hugh, did anything and everything for
him; when he got older she used to delight to wait on him, to pack and
unpack for him, to call him in the mornings, and secretly to purchase
clothes and toilet articles to replace anything worn out or lost. In later
days the thought that he was coming home used to make her radiant for

days before. She used to come tapping at my door before dinner, and sit
down for a little talk. "I know what you are thinking about, Beth!"
"What is it, dear?" "Why, about Hugh, of course! You don't care for
anyone else when he is coming." "No, don't say that, dear--but I am
pleased to think that Master Hugh is coming home for a bit--I hope he
won't be very tired!" And she used to smooth down her apron with her
toil-worn hands and beam to herself at the prospect. He always went
and sat with her for a little in the evenings, in her room full of all the
old nursery treasures, and imitated her smilingly. "Nay, now, child! I've
spoken, and that is enough!" he used to say, while she laughed for
delight. She used to say farewell to him with tears, and wave her
handkerchief at the window till the carriage was out of sight. Even in
her last long illness, as she faded out of life, at over ninety years of age,
she was made perfectly happy by the thought that he was in the house,
and only sorry that she could not look after his things.
Beth had had but little education; she could read a little in a
well-known book, but writing was always a slow and difficult business;
but she used slowly to compile a little letter from time to time to Hugh,
and I find the following put away among the papers of his Eton days
and schoolboy correspondence:
Addington Park,
[? Nov. 1887] Tuesday.
Dearest,--One line to tell you I am sending your Box to-morrow
Wednesday. I hope you will get it before tea-time. I know you will like
something for tea, you can keep your cake for your Birthday. I shall
think about you on Friday. Everybody has gone away, so I had no one
to write for me. I thought you would not mind me writing to
you.--Dearest love from your dear
Beth.
The dear