The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1896-10-24

a wild feeling OF pity came over him. After
all, what right had he to pry into the life of
Dorian Grayt If he had done a 1.-THE ef
what was rumored about him, how much
he must have suffered! Then he straight
ened himself pp, and walked over to the
Fireplace, and stood there, looking at the
burning legs with their frost-like ashes and
their %throbbing cores of flame.
~ am waiting, Basil, - said the young man,
in u hard, clear voice.
He turned round. what l have to say is
this" " he cried. "You must give me some
answer to these horrible charges that are
made against you. if you tell me that they
are absolutely untrue from beginning to
end, l will believe you. Deny them, Dorian,
deny them. Can't you see what / am CO.
ing through! My God! don't tell me that
you arc infamous!''
Dorian Gray smiled, There was a curl of
contempt in his lips. s'Come upstairs,
Basil, y he said. quietly. Il keep a diary of
my life from day to day, and it never leaves
the room in which 1T is written. Twill show
it TO you if you come with me"
Il win come with you, Dorian, if you wish
it. | see l have missed my train. That
makes no matter. i can 90 tomorrow.
But don't ask me to read anything tonight.
All j want is Ii plain answer to my question"
."rhat will be given to you upstairs. l
could not give it here. You won't have to
read long. DoAt keep me waiting"
CHAPTER NJ.
He passed out of the room, and began the
ascent, Basil Hallward following close be-
hind. They walked softly, as men instinct
lively do ut night. The lamp cast fantastic
| shadows on the wall and staircase. A rising
wind made some of the windows rattle.
When they reached the top landing,
| Dorian set the lamp down on the floor, and
taking out the key turned it in the lock.
''You insist on knowing, Basil" he asked,
in u low Voice.
"Ycs,n
Il am delighted. !" If murmured, smiling.
| Then he added, somewhat bitterly: You
are the enc man in the world who is ell.
titled to know everything about me. YJu
have had more to do with my life than
you think" And, taking up the lamp, he
opened the door and went in. "A cold cur
rent of air passed them, and the light shot
up for Il moment in Il flame of murlly orange,
He shuddered. SHUT the door behind
you > ne said as he placed the lamp on the
table.
Hallwara glanced around him, with u
puzzled expression. The room looked as if
it had not been lived in for years. A faded
Flemish tapestry, a curtained picture, and
old italian cdssonc, and an almost empty
book-case-that was all it seemed to contain,
beside II chair and a table. AS Dorian Gray
was lighting a half-burned candle that was
standing on the mantel shelf, he saw that
the whole place was covered with dust, and
that the carpet was in holes. a mouse ran
scut1lipg behind the wainscoting. There
was a damp odor of mildew,
$50 You think that it is only God who sees
the soul, Basil. Draw the curtain back,
and YOU will see nine"
The Voice that spoke was cold and cruel.
"Ion are mad, Dorian, or playing a part"
ninttercd Hallward, frowning.
You won'ts The.a | must do it myself"
said the young man and he tore the curtain
from its rod, and flung it on the ground.
An exclamation of horror broke from
Hallward's lips as he saw in the dim light
the hideous thing on the canvas leering at
him. There was something in its expression
that filed him with disgust and loathing.
Good heavens it was Dorian Gray's own
face. The horror. whatever it was.
uda hob NcG cltlielS IiuIIcu tHdb uldI-
velous beauty. There was still some gold
in the thinning hair and some scarlet on the
sensual lips. The sodden eyes had kept
something of the loneliness of their blue,
the noble curves had not vet passed entire
ly away from chiselcd ~nostrils and from the
plastic throat. Yes, it was Dorian himself.
But who had done ita He seemed to recog-
,ize his own brush-work. and the frame
was his own design. Tho idea was mon
strous, yet he felt afraid. He seized the
lighted candle, and held it to the picture.
In the lcft-hand corner was his own name,
traced in long red letters of bright YER
million.
1t was some foul parody, some infamous,
ignoblc satire. He had never done that.
Still it was his own picture. He knew it,
and he felt as if his blood had changed from
fire to sluggish ice in u moment. His own
picture! What did it mean! Why had it
altered? He turned, and looked at Dorian
Gray with the eyes of u sick man. His
mouth twitchcd, and his parchcd tongue
seemed unable to articulate. He passed his
hand across his forehead. 1t was dank with
clammy sweat.
The young man was leaning against tho
mantel-shelf, watching him with that ex-
preston that is on the faces of those vino
are absorbed in a play when a real artist is
acting. There was neither real sorrow in it
nor real JOY. There was simply the passion
of the spectator. with perhaps Il flicker of
triumph in the eyes. He had taken the
flower ont of his coat, and was smelling it,
or pretending to do so.
What does this mean.' cried Hallward,
at last. His w voice sounded shrill and
curious III his ears.
Years ago when / was n boy.n said
Dorian Gray. ''you met me, devoted your
self to me. hattered me. and taught me to
be vain of my good looks. One day YOU in
troduced INC TO a friend of yours, who ex-
planned to me the wonder of youth, aud You
finished a portrait of me that revealed to me
the wonder of beauty. In a mad moment.
that l don't know, even now, whether l re-
greet or not, l made a wish. Perhaps YOU
call il a prayer"
At remember it. Oh. how well l rcmem-
Der it! No; the thing is possible. The room is
damp. The mildew has got into the canvas.
The paints / used had some wrctched
mineral poison in them. I tell YOU the thing
is impossible"
'sAh, what is inlpossiblei n the
young man, going over TO the window. and
leaning his forehead against the cold, mist
stained glass.
"You told me you had destroyed it."
81 was wrong. 1t has destroyed mc.n
AZ don't believe it is my picture"
Cant you see Your romance in it.n said
Dorian, bitterly.
sMy romance, as you call it"
Gas you called it,
''rhcrc was nothing evil in it, nothing
shameful. This is the face of satyr."
at is the face Of my soul"
"God! what ii thing ! must have worship
ed! This has the eyes of a devil"
Each of us has heaven and hell in him,
Basil cried Dorian, with a wild gesture OF
despair.
1ialiward turned again TO the portrait,
and gazed ut it, tMy God! if it is Lrue,n he