Basil got up
and walked up and down the garden. ‘So that’s my secret. Dorian doesn’t
know about my feelings. And I can’t let people see the portrait because it
shows what’s in my heart. There’s so much of myself in it, Harry, too
much!’ Lord Henry looked at Basil’s face before he spoke. ‘Tell me, does
Dorian Gray care about you?’
The artist
thought for a few moments. ‘He likes me,’ he said at last. ‘I know he
likes me. Usually he’s very friendly to me, but sometimes he seems to enjoy
hurting me. He says unkind things that give me pain, Harry. And then I feel that
I’ve given myself to somebody who thinks my heart is a pretty flower. A flower
that can enjoy for a summer’s day and can forget tomorrow.’ ‘Summer days
Basil,’ said Lord Henry with a smile, ‘can sometimes bee too long. Perhaps
you’ll become tired sooner than he will.’ ‘Harry, don’t talk like that.
While I live, Dorian Gray will be important to me. You change your feelings too
quickly. You can’t feel what I feel.’ ‘My dear Basil, how unkind you
are!’ Lord Henry was amused. How interesting other people’s lives were, he
thought. Slowly he pulled a flower to pieces with his long fingers. ‘I
remember now,’ he continued. ‘I think my aunt knows Dorian Gray, I’d like
to meet him very much.’ ‘But I don’t want you to meet him,’ said Basil.
A servant came across the garden towards them. ‘Mr. Dorian Gray has arrived,
sir,’ he said to Basil.
‘You have to introduce me now,’ laughed Lord
Henry. Basil turned to him. ‘He’s a good person and he’s young – only
twenty. Don’t change him. Don’t try to influence him. Your clever words are
very amusing, of course, but you laugh at serious things. Don’t take him away
from me. He’s necessary to my life as an artist.’ Lord Henry smiled. ‘You
worry too much, my friend,’ he said, and together they walked back into the
house.
