withhisstrangepanegyriyouth,histerriblewarningofitsbrevity.Thathadstirredhimatthetime,andnow,ashestoodgazingattheshadowofhisownlovelihefullrealityofthedescriptionflashedacrosshim.Yes,therewouldbeadaywhenhisfacewouldbewrinkledandwizen,hiseyesdimandcolourless,thegraceofhisfigurebrokenanddeformed.Thescarletwouldpassawayfromhislipsandthegoldstealfromhishair.Thelifethatwastomakehissoulwouldmarhisbody.Hewouldbeedreadful,hideous,anduncouth.

    Ashethoughtofit,asharppangofpainstruckthroughhimlikeaknifeandmadeeachdelicatefibreofhisnaturequiver.Hiseyesdeepeoamethyst,andacrossthemcameamistoftears.Hefeltasifahandoficehadbeenlaiduponhisheart.

    "Dontyoulikeit?"criedHallwardatlast,stungalittlebytheladssileuandingwhatitmeant.

    "Ofcoursehelikesit,"saidLordHenry."Whowouldntlikeit?Itisohegreatestthingsinmodernart.Iwillgiveyouanythingyouliketoaskforit.Imusthaveit."

    "Itisnotmyproperty,Harry."

    "Whosepropertyisit?"

    "Dorians,ofcourse,"ahepainter.

    "Heisaveryluckyfellow."

    "Howsaditis!"murmuredDraywithhiseyesstillfixeduponhisownportrait."Howsaditis!Ishallgrowold,andhorrible,anddreadful.Butthispicturewillremainalwaysyoung.ItwillneverbeolderthanthisparticulardayofJune....Ifitwereonlytheotherway!IfitwereIwhowastobealwaysyoung,aurethatwastogrowold!Forthat--forthat--IwouldgiveeverythihereisnothinginthewholeworldIwouldnotgive!Iwouldgivemysoulforthat!"

    "Youwo