CHAPTER XVI.

inahoarsevoice. “Curseyou!”heanswered,“don’tcallmethat.” Shesnappedherfingers.“PrinceCharmingiswhatyouliketobecalled,ain’tit?”sheyelledafterhim. Thedrowsysailorleapedtohisfeetasshespoke,andlookedwildlyround.Thesoundoftheshuttingofthehalldoorfellonhisear.Herushedoutasifinpursuit. DorianGrayhurriedalongthequaythroughthedrizzlingrain.HismeetingwithAdrianSingletonhadstrangelymovedhim,andhewonderediftheruinofthatyounglifewasreallytobelaidathisdoor,asBasilHallwardhadsaidtohimwithsuchinfamyofinsult.Hebithislip,andforafewsecondshiseyesgrewsad.Yet,afterall,whatdiditmattertohim?One’sdaysweretoobrieftotaketheburdenofanother’serrorsonone’sshoulders.Eachmanlivedhisownlifeandpaidhisownpriceforlivingit.Theonlypitywasonehadtopaysooftenforasinglefault.Onehadtopayoverandoveragain,indeed.Inherdealingswithman,destinyneverclosedheraccounts. Therearemoments,psychologiststellus,whenthepassionforsin,orforwhattheworldcallssin,sodominatesanaturethateveryfibreofthebody,aseverycellofthebrain,seemstobeinstinctwithfearfulimpulses.Menandwomenatsuchmomentslosethefreedomoftheirwill.Theymovetotheirterribleendasautomatonsmove.Choiceistakenfromthem,andconscienceiseitherkilled,or,ifitlivesatall,livesbuttogiverebellionitsfascinationanddisobedienceitscharm.Forallsins,astheologianswearynotofremindingus,aresinsofdisobedience.Whenthathighspirit,thatmorningstarofevil,fellfromheaven,itwasasarebelthathefell. Callous,concentratedonevil,withstainedmind,andsoulhungryforrebellion,DorianGrayhastenedon,quickeninghisstepashewent,butashedartedasideintoadimarchway,thathadservedhimoftenasashortcuttotheill-famedplacewherehewasgoing,hefelthimselfsuddenlyseizedfrombehind,andbeforehehadtimetodefendhimself,hewasthrustbackagainstthewall,withabrutalhandroundhisthroat. Hestruggledmadlyforlife,andbyaterribleeffortwrenchedthetighteningfingersaway.Inasecondheheardtheclickofarevolver,andsawthegleamofapolishedbarrel,pointingstraightathishead,andtheduskyformofashort,thick-setmanfacinghim. “Whatdoyouwant?”hegasped. “Keepquiet,”saidtheman.“Ifyoustir,Ishootyou.” “Youaremad.WhathaveIdonetoyou?” “YouwreckedthelifeofSibylVane,”wastheanswer,“andSibylVanewasmysister.Shekilledherself.Iknowit.Herdeathisatyourdoor.IsworeIwouldkillyouinreturn.ForyearsIhavesoughtyou.Ihadnoclue,notrace.Thetwopeoplewhocouldhavedescribedyouweredead.Iknewnothingofyoubutthepetnamesheusedtocallyou.Ihearditto-nightbychance.MakeyourpeacewithGod,forto-nightyouaregoingtodie.” DorianGraygrewsickwithfear.“Ineverknewher,”hestammered.“Ineverheardofher.Youaremad.” “Youhadbetterconfessyoursin,forassureasIamJamesVane,youaregoingtodie.”Therewasahorriblemoment.Doriandidnotknowwhattosayordo.“Downonyourknees!”growledtheman.“Igiveyouoneminutetomakeyourpeace—nomore.Igoonboardto-nightforIndia,andImustdomyjo