The Picture of Dorian Gray Page #10

What have you been up to, David?

You'll put it down to jealousy.

I don't deny that jealousy's mixed up in it.

But I had a dreadful presentiment

about you and Dorian.

And when you announced

the date of your marriage, I...

I grew desperate.

I wanted to do anything to try and stop it.

What is it you've done, David?

There is a locked room

at the top of Dorian's house.

I didn't attach any importance to it at first.

He could have locked up anything there

that he wanted to keep safe,

from the servants, even.

But then one of Dorian's valets

came to see me about a position.

It struck me how often Dorian

changed his servants.

This one told me that Dorian

would steal up to that room at all hours

and lock himself in.

One night he heard a noise

and went to investigate.

It was 4:
00 in the morning.

Dorian came out of the room

and looked at him in the strangest way.

As if he could kill him, he said.

Then he accused him of spying

and sacked him.

I began to feel that if

I could get into that room

I might find something

that would put a stop to this marriage.

And did you get in?

I bribed one of his servants

to get me an impression of the lock.

Here's the key.

I waited until Dorian came down

here to Selby and then I let myself in.

I know you'll despise me for stooping

to such measures but I'm not important.

It doesn't matter what happens to me

or even what you think of me

-if I can stop you from marrying him.

-What did you find in the room?

Nothing to help me, really.

It's just an old schoolroom

with books and things.

And there's a huge portrait

with a covering over it.

-A portrait? Of whom?

-I don't know.

The original must be a monstrous person,

if an original exists.

It has a vague

family resemblance to Dorian.

A sort of middle-aged,

mad, gruesome uncle

with a debauched face

and blood all over him.

-It was painted by your uncle.

-My uncle never painted such a picture.

He signed it.

I'd been counting so much

on finding something to help me

that I decided perhaps

it was just stupid jealousy on my part

and I'd been doing Dorian a great injustice.

I had an impulse to come down here and

make a clean breast of it to both of you.

Give you my blessing

and ask your forgiveness.

Can you describe the portrait

in greater detail?

There's a curious cat in it.

Like the one in Dorian's drawing room.

Only, in the portrait, the eyes shine

in an evil way that's indescribable.

Did you notice anything

unusual about the signature?

No, I don't think so.

Now that I see you, Gladys.

I can't say what I intended to.

I'd be lying if I did.

I know that this marriage is wrong.

You mustn't go through with it.

There's something strange

and evil in Dorian.

Was there a letter G under the signature

on that painting, David?

Like this?

I believe there was. How did you know?

-Yes, Gibson?

-I beg your pardon, miss.

But Mr. Gray asked me to bring you this

letter when I got back from the station.

-He said I must give it to you in person.

-Thank you.

Once I said that if I were to marry you,

it would be an incredible wickedness.

You thought it was a way of saying

that I didn't love you.

You must know that I do love you,

more than anything in the world.

But I can only bring disaster

on those who love me.

If you knew how I've already wronged you,

you would turn from me in horror.

You will never see me again.

Try to remember me, dear Gladys,

without bitterness.

This is the only good thing

I have ever done.

Won't you tell us what it is, Gladys?

Perhaps we can help you.

We must go to London at once.

Was it true that one could never change?

He longed for the

unstained purity of his youth,

before he had prayed in a monstrous

moment of pride and passion

that the painting should bear the burden

of the years and of his corruptions.

Sibyl Vane was dead.

And now her brother

would be hidden in a nameless grave.

Allen Campbell had shot himself.

And Basil...

Nothing could alter that.

It was of the future that he must think.

He had spared Gladys.

Would there be any sign

of his one good deed in the portrait?

It was there, almost imperceptible,

but surely it was there in the eyes,

struggling through the horror

and the loathsomeness.

There was hope for him, then.

He would go away, leave England forever,

live obscurely in a distant country,

find peace in

a life of humility and self-denial.

He would expel every sign

of evil from the painted face.

He would watch

the hideousness fade and change.

But the painting would always

be there to tempt his weakness.

Better to destroy it,

to grow old inevitably

as all men grow old.

If he fell into evil ways,

to be punished as all men are punished.

Better if each sin of his life

were to bring its sure, swift penalty.

The knife that had killed Basil Hallward

would kill his portrait also

and free him at a stroke from

the evil enchantment of the past.

But when the knife

pierced the heart of the portrait,

an extraordinary thing happened.

Pray, Father, forgive me.

Pray, Father, forgive me for I have sinned.

Pray, Father, forgive me for I have sinned.

Through my fault,

through my most grievous faults.

Heaven forgive me.

Take Gladys home, David.

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