English
Thenextdayhedidnotleavethehouse,and,indeed,spentmostofthetimeinhisownroom,sickwithawildterrorofdying,andyetindifferenttolifeitself.
Theconsciousnessofbeinghunted,snared,trackeddown,hadbeguntodominatehim.
Ifthetapestrydidbuttrembleinthewind,heshook.
Thedeadleavesthatwereblownagainsttheleadedpanesseemedtohimlikehisownwastedresolutionsandwildregrets.
Whenheclosedhiseyes,hesawagainthesailor’sfacepeeringthroughthemist-stainedglass,andhorrorseemedoncemoretolayitshanduponhisheart.
Butperhapsithadbeenonlyhisfancythathadcalledvengeanceoutofthenightandsetthehideousshapesofpunishmentbeforehim.
Actuallifewaschaos,buttherewassomethingterriblylogicalintheimagination.
Itwastheimaginationthatsetremorsetodogthefeetofsin.
Itwastheimaginationthatmadeeachcrimebearitsmisshapenbrood.
Inthecommonworldoffactthewickedwerenotpunished,northegoodrewarded.
Successwasgiventothestrong,failurethrustupontheweak.Thatwasall.
Besides,hadanystrangerbeenprowlingroundthehouse,hewouldhavebeenseenbytheservantsorthekeepers.
Hadanyfoot-marksbeenfoundontheflower-beds,thegardenerswouldhavereportedit.Yes,ithadbeenmerelyfancy.
SibylVane’sbrotherhadnotcomebacktokillhim.
Hehadsailedawayinhisshiptofounderinsomewintersea.Fromhim,atanyrate,hewassafe.
Why,themandidnotknowwhohewas,couldnotknowwhohewas.Themaskofyouthhadsavedhim.
Andyetifithadbeenmerelyanillusion,howterribleitwastothinkthatconsciencecouldraisesuchfearfulphantoms,andgivethemvisibleform,andmakethemmovebeforeone!
Whatsortoflifewouldhisbeif,dayandnight,shadowsofhiscrimeweretopeerathimfromsilentcorners,tomockhimfromsecretplaces,towhisperinhisearashesatatthefeast,towakehimwithicyfingersashelayasleep!
Asthethoughtcreptthroughhisbrain,hegrewpalewithterror,andtheairseemedtohimtohavebecomesuddenlycolder.Oh!
inwhatawildhourofmadnesshehadkilledhisfriend!
Howghastlythemerememoryofthescene!Hesawitallagain.
Eachhideousdetailcamebacktohimwithaddedhorror.
Outoftheblackcaveoftime,terribleandswathedinscarlet,rosetheimageofhissin.
WhenLordHenrycameinatsixo’clock,hefoundhimcryingasonewhoseheartwillbreak.
Itwasnottillthethirddaythatheventuredtogoout.
Therewassomethingintheclear,pine-scentedairofthatwintermorningthatseemedtobringhimbackhisjoyousnessandhisardourforlife.
Butitwasnotmerelythephysicalconditionsofenvironmentthathadcausedthechange.
Hisownnaturehadrevoltedagainsttheexcessofanguishthathadsoughttomaimandmartheperfectionofitscalm.
Withsubtleandfinelywroughttemperamentsitisalwaysso.
Theirstrongpassionsmusteitherbruiseorbend.
Theyeitherslaytheman,orthemselvesdie.
Shallowsorrowsandshallowlovesliveon.
Thelovesandsorrowsthataregreataredestroyedbytheirownplenitude.
Besides,hehadconvincedhimselfthathehadbeenthevictimofaterror-strickenimagination,andlookedbacknowonhisfearswithsomethingofpityandnotalittleofcontempt.
Afterbreakfast,hewalkedwiththeduchessforanhourinthegardenandthendroveacrosstheparktojointheshooting-party.
Thecrispfrostlaylikesaltuponthegrass.
Theskywasaninvertedcupofbluemetal.
Athinfilmoficeborderedtheflat,reed-grownlake.
Atthecornerofthepine-woodhecaughtsightofSirGeoffreyClouston,theduchess’sbrother,jerkingtwospentcartridgesoutofhisgun.
Hejumpedfromthecart,andhavingtoldthegroomtotakethemarehome,madehiswaytowardshisguestthroughthewitheredbrackenandroughundergrowth.
“Haveyouhadgoodsport,Geoffrey?”heasked.
“Notverygood,Dorian.Ithinkmostofthebirdshavegonetotheopen.Idaresayitwillbebetterafterlunch,whenwegettonewground.”
Dorianstrolledalongbyhisside.Thekeenaromaticair,thebrownandredlightsthatglimmeredinthewood,thehoarsecriesofthebeatersringingoutfromtimetotime,andthesharpsnapsofthegunsthatfollowed,fascinatedhimandfilledhimwithasenseofdelightfulfreedom.
Hewasdominatedbythecarelessnessofhappiness,bythehighindifferenceofjoy.
Suddenlyfromalumpytussockofoldgrasssometwentyyardsinfrontofthem,withblack-tippedearserectandlonghinderlimbsthrowingitforward,startedahare.Itboltedforathicketofalders.
SirGeoffreyputhisguntohisshoulder,buttherewassomethingintheanimal’sgraceofmovementthatstrangelycharmedDorianGray,andhecriedoutatonce,“Don’tshootit,Geoffrey.Letitlive.”
“Whatnonsense,Dorian!”laughedhiscompanion,andasthehareboundedintothethicket,hefired.
Thereweretwocriesheard,thecryofahareinpain,whichisdreadful,thecryofamaninagony,whichisworse.
“Goodheavens!Ihavehitabeater!”exclaimedSirGeoffrey.“Whatanassthemanwastogetinfrontoftheguns!Stopshootingthere!”hecalledoutatthetopofhisvoice.“Amanishurt.”
Thehead-keepercamerunningupwithastickinhishand.
“Where,sir?Whereishe?”heshouted.Atthesametime,thefiringceasedalongtheline.
“Here,”answeredSirGeoffreyangrily,hurryingtowardsthethicket.“Whyonearthdon’tyoukeepyourmenback?Spoiledmyshootingfortheday.”
Dorianwatchedthemastheyplungedintothealder-clump,brushingthelitheswingingbranchesaside.
Inafewmomentstheyemerged,draggingabodyafterthemintothesunlight.Heturnedawayinhorror.
Itseemedtohimthatmisfortunefollowedwhereverhewent.
HeheardSirGeoffreyaskifthemanwasreallydead,andtheaffirmativeanswerofthekeeper.
Thewoodseemedtohimtohavebecomesuddenlyalivewithfaces.
Therewasthetramplingofmyriadfeetandthelowbuzzofvoices.
Agreatcopper-breastedpheasantcamebeatingthroughtheboughsoverhead.
Afterafewmoments—thatweretohim,inhisperturbedstate,likeendlesshoursofpain—hefeltahandlaidonhisshoulder.Hestartedandlookedround.
“Dorian,”saidLordHenry,“Ihadbettertellthemthattheshootingisstoppedforto-day.Itwouldnotlookwelltogoon.”
“Iwishitwerestoppedforever,Harry,”heansweredbitterly.“Thewholethingishideousandcruel.Istheman...?”
Hecouldnotfinishthesentence.
“Iamafraidso,”rejoinedLordHenry.“Hegotthewholechargeofshotinhischest.Hemusthavediedalmostinstantaneously.Come;letusgohome.”
Theywalkedsidebysideinthedirectionoftheavenuefornearlyfiftyyardswithoutspeaking.
ThenDorianlookedatLordHenryandsaid,withaheavysigh,“Itisabadomen,Harry,averybadomen.”
“Whatis?”askedLordHenry.“Oh!thisaccident,Isuppose.Mydearfellow,itcan’tbehelped.Itwastheman’sownfault.Whydidhegetinfrontoftheguns?Besides,itisnothingtous.
ItisratherawkwardforGeoffrey,ofcourse.Itdoesnotdotopepperbeaters.
Itmakespeoplethinkthatoneisawildshot.
AndGeoffreyisnot;heshootsverystraight.
Butthereisnousetalkingaboutthematter.”
Dorianshookhishead.“Itisabadomen,Harry.
Ifeelasifsomethinghorribleweregoingtohappentosomeofus.
Tomyself,perhaps,”headded,passinghishandoverhiseyes,withagestureofpain.
Theeldermanlaughed.“Theonlyhorriblethingintheworldisennui,Dorian.
Thatistheonesinforwhichthereisnoforgiveness.
Butwearenotlikelytosufferfromitunlessthesefellowskeepchatteringaboutthisthingatdinner.
Imusttellthemthatthesubjectistobetabooed.
Asforomens,thereisnosuchthingasanomen.Destinydoesnotsendusheralds.Sheistoowiseortoocruelforthat.
Besides,whatonearthcouldhappentoyou,Dorian?
Youhaveeverythingintheworldthatamancanwant.
Thereisnoonewhowouldnotbedelightedtochangeplaceswithyou.”
“ThereisnoonewithwhomIwouldnotchangeplaces,Harry.Don’tlaughlikethat.Iamtellingyouthetruth.
ThewretchedpeasantwhohasjustdiedisbetteroffthanIam.Ihavenoterrorofdeath.
Itisthecomingofdeaththatterrifiesme.
Itsmonstrouswingsseemtowheelintheleadenairaroundme.Goodheavens!
don’tyouseeamanmovingbehindthetreesthere,watchingme,waitingforme?”
LordHenrylookedinthedirectioninwhichthetremblingglovedhandwaspointing.
“Yes,”hesaid,smiling,“Iseethegardenerwaitingforyou.
Isupposehewantstoaskyouwhatflowersyouwishtohaveonthetableto-night.
Howabsurdlynervousyouare,mydearfellow!
Youmustcomeandseemydoctor,whenwegetbacktotown.”
Dorianheavedasighofreliefashesawthegardenerapproaching.
Themantouchedhishat,glancedforamomentatLordHenryinahesitatingmanner,andthenproducedaletter,whichhehandedtohismaster.
“HerGracetoldmetowaitforananswer,”hemurmured.
Dorianputtheletterintohispocket.“TellherGracethatIamcomingin,”hesaid,coldly.Themanturnedroundandwentrapidlyinthedirectionofthehouse.
“Howfondwomenareofdoingdangerousthings!”laughedLordHenry.
“ItisoneofthequalitiesinthemthatIadmiremost.
Awomanwillflirtwithanybodyintheworldaslongasotherpeoplearelookingon.”
“Howfondyouareofsayingdangerousthings,Harry!Inthepresentinstance,youarequiteastray.Iliketheduchessverymuch,butIdon’tloveher.”
“Andtheduchesslovesyouverymuch,butshelikesyouless,soyouareexcellentlymatched.”
“Youaretalkingscandal,Harry,andthereisneveranybasisforscandal.”
“Thebasisofeveryscandalisanimmoralcertainty,”saidLordHenry,lightingacigarette.
“Youwouldsacrificeanybody,Harry,forthesakeofanepigram.”
“Theworldgoestothealtarofitsownaccord,”wastheanswer.
“IwishIcouldlove,”criedDorianGraywithadeepnoteofpathosinhisvoice.
“ButIseemtohavelostthepassionandforgottenthedesire.Iamtoomuchconcentratedonmyself.
Myownpersonalityhasbecomeaburdentome.
Iwanttoescape,togoaway,toforget.
Itwassillyofmetocomedownhereatall.
IthinkIshallsendawiretoHarveytohavetheyachtgotready.Onayachtoneissafe.”
“Safefromwhat,Dorian?Youareinsometrouble.Whynottellmewhatitis?YouknowIwouldhelpyou.”
“Ican’ttellyou,Harry,”heansweredsadly.
“AndIdaresayitisonlyafancyofmine.Thisunfortunateaccidenthasupsetme.
Ihaveahorriblepresentimentthatsomethingofthekindmayhappentome.”
“Whatnonsense!”
“Ihopeitis,butIcan’thelpfeelingit.Ah!hereistheduchess,lookinglikeArtemisinatailor-madegown.Youseewehavecomeback,Duchess.”
“Ihaveheardallaboutit,Mr.Gray,”sheanswered.“PoorGeoffreyisterriblyupset.Anditseemsthatyouaskedhimnottoshootthehare.Howcurious!”
“Yes,itwasverycurious.Idon’tknowwhatmademesayit.Somewhim,Isuppose.Itlookedtheloveliestoflittlelivethings.ButIamsorrytheytoldyouabouttheman.Itisahideoussubject.”
“Itisanannoyingsubject,”brokeinLordHenry.“Ithasnopsychologicalvalueatall.
NowifGeoffreyhaddonethethingonpurpose,howinterestinghewouldbe!
Ishouldliketoknowsomeonewhohadcommittedarealmurder.”
“Howhorridofyou,Harry!”criedtheduchess.“Isn’tit,Mr.Gray?Harry,Mr.Grayisillagain.Heisgoingtofaint.”
Doriandrewhimselfupwithaneffortandsmiled.
“Itisnothing,Duchess,”hemurmured;“mynervesaredreadfullyoutoforder.Thatisall.
IamafraidIwalkedtoofarthismorning.Ididn’thearwhatHarrysaid.Wasitverybad?Youmusttellmesomeothertime.IthinkImustgoandliedown.Youwillexcuseme,won’tyou?”
Theyhadreachedthegreatflightofstepsthatledfromtheconservatoryontotheterrace.
AstheglassdoorclosedbehindDorian,LordHenryturnedandlookedattheduchesswithhisslumberouseyes.“Areyouverymuchinlovewithhim?”heasked.
Shedidnotanswerforsometime,butstoodgazingatthelandscape.“IwishIknew,”shesaidatlast.
Heshookhishead.“Knowledgewouldbefatal.Itistheuncertaintythatcharmsone.Amistmakesthingswonderful.”
“Onemayloseone’sway.”
“Allwaysendatthesamepoint,mydearGladys.”
“Whatisthat?”
“Disillusion.”
“Itwasmydebutinlife,”shesighed.
“Itcametoyoucrowned.”
“Iamtiredofstrawberryleaves.”
“Theybecomeyou.”
“Onlyinpublic.”
“Youwouldmissthem,”saidLordHenry.
“Iwillnotpartwithapetal.”
“Monmouthhasears.”
“Oldageisdullofhearing.”
“Hasheneverbeenjealous?”
“Iwishhehadbeen.”
Heglancedaboutasifinsearchofsomething.“Whatareyoulookingfor?”sheinquired.
“Thebuttonfromyourfoil,”heanswered.“Youhavedroppedit.”
Shelaughed.“Ihavestillthemask.”
“Itmakesyoureyeslovelier,”washisreply.
Shelaughedagain.Herteethshowedlikewhiteseedsinascarletfruit.
Upstairs,inhisownroom,DorianGraywaslyingonasofa,withterrorineverytinglingfibreofhisbody.
Lifehadsuddenlybecometoohideousaburdenforhimtobear.
Thedreadfuldeathoftheunluckybeater,shotinthethicketlikeawildanimal,hadseemedtohimtopre-figuredeathforhimselfalso.
HehadnearlyswoonedatwhatLordHenryhadsaidinachancemoodofcynicaljesting.
Atfiveo’clockheranghisbellforhisservantandgavehimorderstopackhisthingsforthenight-expresstotown,andtohavethebroughamatthedoorbyeight-thirty.
HewasdeterminednottosleepanothernightatSelbyRoyal.Itwasanill-omenedplace.Deathwalkedthereinthesunlight.
Thegrassoftheforesthadbeenspottedwithblood.
ThenhewroteanotetoLordHenry,tellinghimthathewasgoinguptotowntoconsulthisdoctorandaskinghimtoentertainhisguestsinhisabsence.
Ashewasputtingitintotheenvelope,aknockcametothedoor,andhisvaletinformedhimthatthehead-keeperwishedtoseehim.Hefrownedandbithislip.
“Sendhimin,”hemuttered,aftersomemoments’hesitation.
Assoonasthemanentered,Dorianpulledhischequebookoutofadrawerandspreaditoutbeforehim.
“Isupposeyouhavecomeabouttheunfortunateaccidentofthismorning,Thornton?”hesaid,takingupapen.
“Yes,sir,”answeredthegamekeeper.
“Wasthepoorfellowmarried?Hadheanypeopledependentonhim?”askedDorian,lookingbored.
“Ifso,Ishouldnotlikethemtobeleftinwant,andwillsendthemanysumofmoneyyoumaythinknecessary.”
“Wedon’tknowwhoheis,sir.ThatiswhatItookthelibertyofcomingtoyouabout.”
“Don’tknowwhoheis?”saidDorian,listlessly.“Whatdoyoumean?Wasn’theoneofyourmen?”
“No,sir.Neversawhimbefore.Seemslikeasailor,sir.”
ThependroppedfromDorianGray’shand,andhefeltasifhishearthadsuddenlystoppedbeating.“Asailor?”hecriedout.“Didyousayasailor?”
“Yes,sir.Helooksasifhehadbeenasortofsailor;tattooedonbotharms,andthatkindofthing.”
“Wasthereanythingfoundonhim?”saidDorian,leaningforwardandlookingatthemanwithstartledeyes.“Anythingthatwouldtellhisname?”
“Somemoney,sir—notmuch,andasix-shooter.Therewasnonameofanykind.Adecent-lookingman,sir,butrough-like.Asortofsailorwethink.”
Dorianstartedtohisfeet.Aterriblehopeflutteredpasthim.Heclutchedatitmadly.“Whereisthebody?”heexclaimed.“Quick!Imustseeitatonce.”
“ItisinanemptystableintheHomeFarm,sir.Thefolkdon’tliketohavethatsortofthingintheirhouses.Theysayacorpsebringsbadluck.”
“TheHomeFarm!Gothereatonceandmeetme.Telloneofthegroomstobringmyhorseround.No.Nevermind.I’llgotothestablesmyself.Itwillsavetime.”
Inlessthanaquarterofanhour,DorianGraywasgallopingdownthelongavenueashardashecouldgo.
Thetreesseemedtosweeppasthiminspectralprocession,andwildshadowstoflingthemselvesacrosshispath.
Oncethemareswervedatawhitegate-postandnearlythrewhim.
Helashedheracrosstheneckwithhiscrop.Sheclefttheduskyairlikeanarrow.Thestonesflewfromherhoofs.
AtlasthereachedtheHomeFarm.Twomenwereloiteringintheyard.
Heleapedfromthesaddleandthrewthereinstooneofthem.
Inthefartheststablealightwasglimmering.
Somethingseemedtotellhimthatthebodywasthere,andhehurriedtothedoorandputhishanduponthelatch.
Therehepausedforamoment,feelingthathewasonthebrinkofadiscoverythatwouldeithermakeormarhislife.Thenhethrustthedooropenandentered.
Onaheapofsackinginthefarcornerwaslyingthedeadbodyofamandressedinacoarseshirtandapairofbluetrousers.
Aspottedhandkerchiefhadbeenplacedovertheface.
Acoarsecandle,stuckinabottle,sputteredbesideit.
DorianGrayshuddered.Hefeltthathiscouldnotbethehandtotakethehandkerchiefaway,andcalledouttooneofthefarm-servantstocometohim.
“Takethatthingofftheface.Iwishtoseeit,”hesaid,clutchingatthedoor-postforsupport.
Whenthefarm-servanthaddoneso,hesteppedforward.Acryofjoybrokefromhislips.ThemanwhohadbeenshotinthethicketwasJamesVane.
Hestoodthereforsomeminuteslookingatthedeadbody.Asherodehome,hiseyeswerefulloftears,forheknewhewassafe.
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