Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1896-10-31
CHAPTER MI.

At nine o'clock the next morning his SER
want came in with a cup Of chocolate on a
tray, and opened the shutters. Dorian was
sleeping quite peacefully, lying ON his right
side, with one hand underneath his check.
He looked like "A boy who had been tired
out with play, or study.
The man had to touch him twice on the
shoulder before he woke, and as he opened
his eyes a faint smile passed across his Inns.
as though he had been having some delight
ful dream. Yet he had not dreamed at all.
His night had been u%ntroubled by images of
pleasure or Of pain. But youth smiles with
out any reason. 1t is one Of It's chiefest
charms.
He turned round, and, leaning ON his ol-
bow. began TO drink his chocolate. The
mellow November sun was streaming into
the room. The sky was bright blue, and there
was a genial warmth in the air. 1t was al.
most like "A morning in May.
Gradually tho events of the preceding
night crept with silent blood-stained feet in.
to his brain, and reconstructed themselves
there with terrible distinctness. He WINGED
at the memory of all that he had suffered,
and for a moment the same curious feeling
of loathing for Basil Hallward, that had
made him kill him as he sat in the chair,
came back to him, and he grew cold with
passion. The dead man was still sitting
there, too, and in tho sunlight now. How
horrible that was! Such hidcous things
were for the darkness, not for the day.
He felt that if he broodca on what he had
gone through he would sicken or grow mad.
Thsre were sins whose fascination was more
in the memory than IN the doing Of them,
strange triumphs that gratified the pride
more than TIE passions, and gave 10 the
intellect a quickencd sense Of JOY, greater
than any Joy they brought, or could ever
bring, to the senses. But this was not one
of them. IL was n thing to be driven out OF
the mind, TO he druggcd with peoples, 10
be strangled lest il might stranglc one it,
self.
He passed his hand across his forehead,
and then got up hastily, and dressed him.
self with even more than his usual atten.
ton, giving a good deal OF care TO the
selection of his neck-tie and scarf-pin, and
changing his rings more than once.
He spent a long time over breakf fast.
tasting the various dishes, talking to his
valet about some new livcries that he was
thinking of getting made for the servants
at Sclby, and going through his cores
p%ondencc. Over some Of the letters he
smiled. Three of them bored him. One
he read several times over, and then tore
up with a slight look of annoyance in his
face. THAT awful thing, a woman's mem.
oryl" as Lord Henry had once said.
When he had drunk his coffee, he sal
down at the table. and wrote two letters
One he put in his pocket, the other he hand
ed TO the valet.
''Take this round to 152 Hartford Street,
Francis, and If Mr.. Campbell is out Of town.
get his address,"
AS soon as he was alone, he lighted q
cigarette, and began sketching upon a piece
of paper, drawing flowers, and bits OF
architecture first, and then faces. Sudden
ly he remarked that every faco that he
drew seemed to have an extraordinary like
ness to Basil Hallward. He frowned, and,
getting up, went over to the bookcase and
took out a volume at hazard. He was de.
'termined that he would not think about
what had happened, till it became absolute
ily necessary to do SO.
When he had stretched himself on the
sofa, he locked at the title-page of the book.
IL was Gautier's "Fmaux ct Canoes Char
penter's japanese paper edition, with the