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come over for a day, he had certain meditations on Shake-
speare and the musical glasses which he desired to impart,
and the children were clamouring for a sight of Uncle Phil-
ip. Philip read the letter again in the afternoon when he
was sitting with Mildred on the beach. He thought of Mrs.
Athelny, cheerful mother of many children, with her kind-
ly hospitality and her good humour; of Sally, grave for her
years, with funny little maternal ways and an air of author-
ity, with her long plait of fair hair and her broad forehead;
and then in a bunch of all the others, merry, boisterous,
healthy, and handsome. His heart went out to them. There
was one quality which they had that he did not remember
to have noticed in people before, and that was goodness. It
had not occurred to him till now, but it was evidently the
beauty of their goodness which attracted him. In theory he
did not believe in it: if morality were no more than a matter
of convenience good and evil had no meaning. He did not
like to be illogical, but here was simple goodness, natural
and without effort, and he thought it beautiful. Meditating,
he slowly tore the letter into little pieces; he did not see how
he could go without Mildred, and he did not want to go
with her.
It was very hot, the sky was cloudless, and they had been
driven to a shady corner. The baby was gravely playing with
stones on the beach, and now and then she crawled up to
Philip and gave him one to hold, then took it away again
and placed it carefully down. She was playing a mysterious
and complicated game known only to herself. Mildred was
asleep. She lay with her head thrown back and her mouth

Of Human Bondage