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祇爽鯉跡議鮫_安帽触,藍櫛蟻-及53嫗

弌傍 祇爽鯉跡議鮫_安帽触,藍櫛蟻 忖方 耽匈3500忖

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!!!!隆堋響頼紗秘慕禰厮宴和肝写偬堋響




as he thought of hetty merton察he began to wonder if the portrait in the locked room had changed。 surely it was not still so horrible as it had been拭perhaps if his life became pure察he would be able to expel every sign of evil passion from the face。 perhaps the signs of evil had already gone away。 he would go and look。

he took the lamp from the table and crept upstairs。 as he unbarred the door察a smile of joy flitted across his strangely young´looking face and lingered for a moment about his lips。 yes察he would be good察and the hideous thing that he had hidden away would no longer be a terror to him。 he felt as if the load had been lifted from him already。

he went in quietly察locking the door behind him察as was his custom察and dragged the purple hanging from the portrait。 a cry of pain and indignation broke from him。 he could see no change察save that in the eyes there was a look of cunning and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of the hypocrite。 the thing was still loathsomemore loathsome察if possible察than beforeand the scarlet dew that spotted the hand seemed brighter察and more like blood newly spilled。 then he trembled。 had it been merely vanity that had made him do his one good deed拭or the desire for a new sensation察as lord henry had hinted察with his mocking laugh拭or that passion to act a part that sometimes makes us do things finer than we are ourselves拭or察perhaps察all these拭and why was the red stain larger than it had been拭it seemed to have crept like a horrible disease over the wrinkled fingers。 there was blood on the painted feet察as though the thing had drippedblood even on the hand that had not held the knife。 confess拭did it mean that he was to confess拭to give himself up and be put to death拭he laughed。 he felt that the idea was monstrous。 besides察even if he did confess察who would believe him拭there was no trace of the murdered man anywhere。 everything belonging to him had been destroyed。 he himself had burned what had been below´stairs。 the world would simply say that he was mad。 they would shut him up if he persisted in his story。 。 。 。 yet it was his duty to confess察to suffer public shame察and to make public atonement。 there was a god who called upon men to tell their sins to earth as well as to heaven。 nothing that he could do would cleanse him till he had told his own sin。 his sin拭he shrugged his shoulders。 the death of basil hallward seemed very little to him。 he was thinking of hetty merton。 for it was an unjust mirror察this mirror of his soul that he was looking at。 vanity拭curiosity拭hypocrisy拭had there been nothing more in his renunciation than that拭there had been something more。 at least he thought so。 but who could tell拭  。 。 no。 there had been nothing more。 through vanity he had spared her。 in hypocrisy he had worn the mask of goodness。 for curiositys sake he had tried the denial of self。 he recognized that now。

but this murderwas it to dog him all his life拭was he always to be burdened by his past拭was he really to confess拭never。 there was only one bit of evidence left against him。 the picture itself that was evidence。 he would destroy it。 why had he kept it so long拭once it had given him pleasure to watch it changing and growing old。 of late he had felt no such pleasure。 it had kept him awake at night。 when he had been away察he had been filled with terror lest other eyes should look upon it。 it had brought melancholy across his passions。 its mere memory had marred many moments of joy。 it had been like conscience to him。 yes察it had been conscience。 he would destroy it。

he looked round and saw the knife that had stabbed basil hallward。 he had cleaned it many times察till there was no stain left upon it。 it was bright察and glistened。 as it had killed the painter察so it would kill the painters work察and all that that meant。 it would kill the past察and when that was dead察he would be free。 it would kill this monstrous soul´life察and without its hideous warnings察he would be at peace。 he seized the thing察and stabbed the picture with it。

there was a cry heard察and a crash。 the cry was so horrible in its agony that the frightened servants woke and crept out of their rooms。 two gentlemen察who were passing in the square below察stopped and looked up at the great house。 they walked on till they met a policeman and brought him back。 the man rang the bell several times察but there was no answer。 except for a light in one of the top windows察the house was all dark。 after a time察he went away and stood in an adjoining portico and watched。

;whose house is that察constable拭─asked the elder of the two gentlemen。

;mr。 dorian grays察sir察─answered the policeman。

they looked at each other察as they walked away察and sneered。 one of them was sir henry ashtons uncle。

inside察in the servants part of the house察the half´clad domestics were talking in low whispers to each other。 old mrs。 leaf was crying and wringing her hands。 francis was as pale as death。

after about a quarter of an hour察he got the coachman and one of the footmen and crept upstairs。 they knocked察but there was no reply。 they called out。 everything was still。 finally察after vainly trying to force the door察they got on the roof and dropped down on to the balcony。 the windows yielded easilytheir bolts were old。

when they entered察they found hanging upon the wall a splendid portrait of their master as they had last seen him察in all the wonder of his exquisite youth and beauty。 lying on the floor was a dead man察in evening dress察with a knife in his heart。 he was withered察wrinkled察and loathsome of visage。 it was not till they had examined the rings that they recognized who it was。

the end 

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