CHAPTER X.

uturewasinevitable.Therewerepassionsinhimthatwouldfindtheirterribleoutlet,dreamsthatwouldmaketheshadowoftheirevilreal. Hetookupfromthecouchthegreatpurple-and-goldtexturethatcoveredit,and,holdingitinhishands,passedbehindthescreen.Wasthefaceonthecanvasvilerthanbefore?Itseemedtohimthatitwasunchanged,andyethisloathingofitwasintensified.Goldhair,blueeyes,androse-redlips—theyallwerethere.Itwassimplytheexpressionthathadaltered.Thatwashorribleinitscruelty.Comparedtowhathesawinitofcensureorrebuke,howshallowBasil’sreproachesaboutSibylVanehadbeen!—howshallow,andofwhatlittleaccount!Hisownsoulwaslookingoutathimfromthecanvasandcallinghimtojudgement.Alookofpaincameacrosshim,andheflungtherichpalloverthepicture.Ashedidso,aknockcametothedoor.Hepassedoutashisservantentered. “Thepersonsarehere,Monsieur.” Hefeltthatthemanmustbegotridofatonce.Hemustnotbeallowedtoknowwherethepicturewasbeingtakento.Therewassomethingslyabouthim,andhehadthoughtful,treacherouseyes.Sittingdownatthewriting-tablehescribbledanotetoLordHenry,askinghimtosendhimroundsomethingtoreadandremindinghimthattheyweretomeetateight-fifteenthatevening. “Waitforananswer,”hesaid,handingittohim,“andshowthemeninhere.” Intwoorthreeminutestherewasanotherknock,andMr.Hubbardhimself,thecelebratedframe-makerofSouthAudleyStreet,cameinwithasomewhatrough-lookingyoungassistant.Mr.Hubbardwasaflorid,red-whiskeredlittleman,whoseadmirationforartwasconsiderablytemperedbytheinveterateimpecuniosityofmostoftheartistswhodealtwithhim.Asarule,heneverlefthisshop.Hewaitedforpeopletocometohim.ButhealwaysmadeanexceptioninfavourofDorianGray.TherewassomethingaboutDorianthatcharmedeverybody.Itwasapleasureeventoseehim. “WhatcanIdoforyou,Mr.Gray?”hesaid,rubbinghisfatfreckledhands.“IthoughtIwoulddomyselfthehonourofcomingroundinperson.Ihavejustgotabeautyofaframe,sir.Pickeditupatasale.OldFlorentine.CamefromFonthill,Ibelieve.Admirablysuitedforareligioussubject,Mr.Gray.” “Iamsosorryyouhavegivenyourselfthetroubleofcominground,Mr.Hubbard.Ishallcertainlydropinandlookattheframe—thoughIdon’tgoinmuchatpresentforreligiousart—butto-dayIonlywantapicturecarriedtothetopofthehouseforme.Itisratherheavy,soIthoughtIwouldaskyoutolendmeacoupleofyourmen.” “Notroubleatall,Mr.Gray.Iamdelightedtobeofanyservicetoyou.Whichistheworkofart,sir?” “This,”repliedDorian,movingthescreenback.“Canyoumoveit,coveringandall,justasitis?Idon’twantittogetscratchedgoingupstairs.” “Therewillbenodifficulty,sir,”saidthegenialframe-maker,beginning,withtheaidofhisassistant,tounhookthepicturefromthelongbrasschainsbywhichitwassuspended.“And,now,whereshallwecarryitto,Mr.Gray?” “Iwillshowyoutheway,Mr.Hubbard,ifyouwillkindlyfollowme.Orperhapsyouhadbettergoinfront.Iamafraiditisrightatthetopofthehouse.Wewillgoupbythefrontstaircase,asitiswider.” Heheldthedooropenforthem,andtheypassedoutintothehallandbegantheascent.Theelaboratecharacteroftheframehadmadethepictureextre