Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1896-10-03

ain hands. "Hcre Is the key. I'll nave IL
OF the ring in a moment. But you don't
think OF living up there, Master Dorian,
and you so comfortable here,n
"No, Leaf, ! don't. J merely want 10 see
the place, and perhaps store something in IL
that is all. Thank you, Leaf. / hope
your rheumatism is better; and mind you
send me up jam for breakfast
Mrs. Leaf shook her hcad. "Them for.
eigners doesn't understand Jam, Master
Dorian. They calls it 'compoe.' But I'll
bring it TO you myself some morning, IL you
lets me-
THAT viii be very kind OF you, Leaf, be
answered, looking at the key and. having
made him an elaborate courtesy, the old
lady left the room, her face wreathed in
smiles. She had a strong objection 10 the
French valet. II was q poor thing. she felt,
for any one 10 he born a foreigner.
AS the door closed, Dorian put the key in
his pocket. and looked round the room. His
eye fell on a large purple satin coverlet
heavily embroidered with gold. a splendid
piece Of late seventeenth-century Venetian
work that his uncle had found in a convent
near Bologna Yes. that would serve 20
wrap the dreadful thing in. II had perhaps
served often as a pail for the dead. Now
IL was to hide something that had a corNp-
ton OF its own, worse than the corruption
Of death itse~lf-something that would breed
horrors and yet would never die. What the
worm was TO his corpse, his sins would be
to the painted image on the canvas. They
would mar its beauty, and eat away its
grace. They would dcfle IT, and make it
shameful. And vet the thing would still
live on. II would be always alive.
He shuddered. and for a moment re-
GREETED that he had not told Basil the true
reason why he had wished 10 hide the
picture away. Basil would have helped
him 10 resist Lord Henry's influence, and
the still more poisonous influences that came
from his own temperament. The love that
he bore him-for il was really loye-had
something noble and intellectual in it. II
was not that mere physical admiration Of
beauty that is born Of the senses. and that
dies when the senses tire. 1t was such love
as Michael Angelo bad known, and Mon.
taigne, and Winckelmann, and Shakespeare
himself. Yes, Basil could have saved him.
But il was too late now. The past could
always be annihilated. Regret, denial, or
fo~rgetfulness could do that. But the future
was inevitable, There were passions in
him that would find their terrible outlet,
dreams that would make the shadow Of their
evil real.
He took up from the couch the great pur-
ple-aud gold texture that covered II, and,
holding it in his hands, passed behind the
screen. Was the face on the canvas viler
than beforel II seemed to him that IL was
unchanged; and yet his loathing Of 10 was
Intensified. Gold hair. blu eyes, and rose
red lips-they all Were there. II was SIM
ply the expression that had altered.
That was horrible in its cruelty. Com.
pared 10 what he saw in il Of censure or re-
Duke, how shallow Basil's reproaches about
Sibyl Vane had beer shallow. ind
OF what little account! His own soul was
looking out al him from the canvas and call
ing him 10 Judgment. A look OF pain came
across him, and he flung the rich pail over
the picture. AS he did so. a knock came 10
the door He passed out as his servant
entered.
The persons are here, monsieur
He felt that the man must be got rid of at
once. He must not be allowed 20 know
where the picture was being taken TO.
There was something sly about him, and he
had thoughtful, treacherous eyes. Sitting
down al the writing-table, he scrubbed a
note TO Lord Henry, asking him 70 send
him round something 20 read. and reminding
him that they were TO meet ct eight-ffteep
that evening.
Wait for an snswer.7 he said, handing il
tc him. ''and show the men in here"
In two or three minutes there was an.
other knock. and Mr.. Ashton himself, the
celebrated fr~ame-maker Of South Audley
Street, came in with a somewhat rough.
looking young assistant MIR. Ashton was
a ford. administered little man. whose ad-
miration for art was considerably tempered
by the inveterate impecuniosity OF most Of
the artists who dealt with him. As a rule, he
never eft his shop. He waited for people
to come 10 him. But ne always made an ex.
ception in favor q Dorian Gray. There
was something about Dorian that charmed
everybody. II was a pleasure even 20 see
hin
"What can ! do for you Mr.. Grayfn be
said. rubbing his Fat freckled hands, u
thought | would DO myself the honor OF
coming round In person. | have just got a
beauty Of a frame, sir. Picked it up at q
sale. Old Fgorcntine. Came from Fonthill,
I believe. Admirably suited for a religious
picture, Mr.. Gray"
Il am so sorry you have given yourself
tuc lrOAD.t ol COla4uk IouHu, MI. <isHpou'
I will certainly drop in and look at the
frame-though | don't go in much for re
ligious art-but to-day / only want a picture
carried 70 the top of the house for me. 1t Is
rather heavy, so l thought / would ask you
TO lend me a couple of your men"
"No trouble al all. Mr.. Gray. l am de-
lighted 70 be Of service 10 you. Which is
the work Of art sir!"
~ z y iii nz-s- - u -G-~A,
back. 'Can ycu move il covering and all.
Just as il isi l don't want il TO get scratched
going upstairs
There will be no difficulty. sir said the
genial framemaker, beginning, with the aid
of his assistant. TO unlock the picture from
the long brass chains by which it was sus.
pended. And. now, where shall W. carry
il TO, Mr.. Gray"
81 will show you the way, Mr.. Ashton, If
you will kindly follow nc. Or perhaps you
had better go in front. We will go up by
the front staircase, as il Is wider
He held the door open for them, and they
passed out into the hall and began the as
cent. The elaborate character of the frame
had made the picture extremely bulky,
and now and then. in spite Of the obse-
Quious protests of Dir. Ashton, who had g
true tradesman's dislike Of seeing a gentle
man doing anything useful, Dorian put his
hand to it so as to help them.
Something of a load TO carry, sir, gasped
the little man, when they reached the top
landing. And he wiped his shiny forehead.
"A terrible load 70 carry" murmured
Dorian, as he unlocked the door that opened
into the room that was to keep for him the
curious secret Of his life and hide his soul
from the eyes of men.
He had not entered the place for more
than four years-not, indeed, since he had
used It first as a play-room when he was q
child and then as a study when he grew
somewhat older. II was a large. well-pro-
portioned room, which had been specially
built by the last Lord Sherard for the use
Of the httle nephew whom. being himself
chldless, and perhaps for other reasons, he
had always hated and desired TO keep at a
distance. II did not appear TO Dorian to
have changed. There was the huge Italian
odssone, with in Enthusiastically painted panels
and is furnished gilt mouldings, in which
he 30 often hid himself as q boy. There
was the satinwood bookcase filled with his
dog-e&red school-books. On the wall DO
hind It was hanging the same ragged f1em-