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"
My
dear
Dorian
,
"
answered
Lord
Henry
,
"
you
merely
fainted
.
That
was
all
.
You
must
have
overtired
yourself
.
You
had
better
not
come
down
to
dinner
.
I
will
take
your
place
.
"
"
No
,
I
will
come
down
,
"
he
said
,
struggling
to
his
feet
.
"
I
would
rather
come
down
.
I
must
not
be
alone
.
"
He
went
to
his
room
and
dressed
.
There
was
a
wild
recklessness
of
gaiety
in
his
manner
as
he
sat
at
table
,
but
now
and
then
a
thrill
of
terror
ran
through
him
when
he
remembered
that
,
pressed
against
the
window
of
the
conservatory
,
like
a
white
handkerchief
,
he
had
seen
the
face
of
James
Vane
watching
him
.
The
next
day
he
did
not
leave
the
house
,
and
,
indeed
,
spent
most
of
the
time
in
his
own
room
,
sick
with
a
wild
terror
of
dying
,
and
yet
indifferent
to
life
itself
.
The
consciousness
of
being
hunted
,
snared
,
tracked
down
,
had
begun
to
dominate
him
.
If
the
tapestry
did
but
tremble
in
the
wind
,
he
shook
.
The
dead
leaves
that
were
blown
against
the
leaded
panes
seemed
to
him
like
his
own
wasted
resolutions
and
wild
regrets
.
When
he
closed
his
eyes
,
he
saw
again
the
sailor
's
face
peering
through
the
mist-stained
glass
,
and
horror
seemed
once
more
to
lay
its
hand
upon
his
heart
.
But
perhaps
it
had
been
only
his
fancy
that
had
called
vengeance
out
of
the
night
,
and
set
the
hideous
shapes
of
punishment
before
him
.
Actual
life
was
chaos
,
but
there
was
something
terribly
logical
in
the
imagination
.
It
was
the
imagination
that
set
remorse
to
dog
the
feet
of
sin
.
It
was
the
imagination
that
made
each
crime
bear
its
misshapen
brood
.
In
the
common
world
of
fact
the
wicked
were
not
punished
,
nor
the
good
rewarded
.
Success
was
given
to
the
strong
,
failure
thrust
upon
the
weak
.
That
was
all
.
Besides
,
had
any
stranger
been
prowling
round
the
house
he
would
have
been
seen
by
the
servants
or
the
keepers
.
Had
any
footmarks
been
found
on
the
flower-beds
,
the
gardeners
would
have
reported
it
.
Yes
:
it
had
been
merely
fancy
.
Sibyl
Vane
's
brother
had
not
come
back
to
kill
him
.
He
had
sailed
away
in
his
ship
to
founder
in
some
winter
sea
.
From
him
,
at
any
rate
,
he
was
safe
.
Why
,
the
man
did
not
know
who
he
was
,
could
not
know
who
he
was
.
The
mask
of
youth
had
saved
him
.
And
yet
if
it
had
been
merely
an
illusion
,
how
terrible
it
was
to
think
that
conscience
could
raise
such
fearful
phantoms
,
and
give
them
visible
form
,
and
make
them
move
before
one
!
What
sort
of
life
would
his
be
,
if
day
and
night
,
shadows
of
his
crime
were
to
peer
at
him
from
silent
corners
,
to
mock
him
from
secret
places
,
to
whisper
in
his
ear
as
he
sat
at
the
feast
,
to
wake
him
with
icy
fingers
as
he
lay
asleep
!
As
the
thought
crept
through
his
brain
,
he
grew
pale
with
terror
,
and
the
air
seemed
to
him
to
have
become
suddenly
colder
.
Oh
!
in
what
a
wild
hour
of
madness
he
had
killed
his
friend
!
How
ghastly
the
mere
memory
of
the
scene
!
He
saw
it
all
again
.
Each
hideous
detail
came
back
to
him
with
added
horror
.
Out
of
the
black
cave
of
Time
,
terrible
and
swathed
in
scarlet
,
rose
the
image
of
his
sin
.
When
Lord
Henry
came
in
at
six
o'clock
o'clock
,
he
found
him
crying
as
one
whose
heart
will
break
.
It
was
not
till
the
third
day
that
he
ventured
to
go
out
.
There
was
something
in
the
clear
,
pine-scented
air
of
that
winter
morning
that
seemed
to
bring
him
back
his
joyousness
and
his
ardour
for
life
.
But
it
was
not
merely
the
physical
conditions
of
environment
that
had
caused
the
change
.
His
own
nature
had
revolted
against
the
excess
of
anguish
that
had
sought
to
maim
and
mar
the
perfection
of
its
calm
.
With
subtle
and
finely-wrought
temperaments
it
is
always
so
.
Their
strong
passions
must
either
bruise
or
bend
.
They
either
slay
the
man
,
or
themselves
die
.
Shallow
sorrows
and
shallow
loves
live
on
.
The
loves
and
sorrows
that
are
great
are
destroyed
by
their
own
plenitude
.
Besides
,
he
had
convinced
himself
that
he
had
been
the
victim
of
a
terror-stricken
imagination
,
and
looked
back
now
on
his
fears
with
something
of
pity
and
not
a
little
of
contempt
.
After
breakfast
he
walked
with
the
Duchess
for
an
hour
in
the
garden
,
and
then
drove
across
the
park
to
join
the
shooting-party
.
The
crisp
frost
lay
like
salt
upon
the
grass
.
The
sky
was
an
inverted
cup
of
blue
metal
.
A
thin
film
of
ice
bordered
the
flat
reed-grown
lake
.
At
the
corner
of
the
pine-wood
he
caught
sight
of
Sir
Geoffrey
Clouston
,
the
Duchess
's
brother
,
jerking
two
spent
cartridges
out
of
his
gun
.
He
jumped
from
the
cart
,
and
having
told
the
groom
to
take
the
mare
home
,
made
his
way
towards
his
guest
through
the
withered
bracken
and
rough
undergrowth
.
