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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 236 pages of information about The Picture of Dorian Gray.

CHAPTER 19

“There is no use your telling me that you are going to be good,” cried Lord Henry, dipping his white fingers into a red copper bowl filled with rose-water.  “You are quite perfect.  Pray, don’t change.”

Dorian Gray shook his head.  “No, Harry, I have done too many dreadful things in my life.  I am not going to do any more.  I began my good actions yesterday.”

“Where were you yesterday?”

“In the country, Harry.  I was staying at a little inn by myself.”

“My dear boy,” said Lord Henry, smiling, “anybody can be good in the country.  There are no temptations there.  That is the reason why people who live out of town are so absolutely uncivilized.  Civilization is not by any means an easy thing to attain to.  There are only two ways by which man can reach it.  One is by being cultured, the other by being corrupt.  Country people have no opportunity of being either, so they stagnate.”

“Culture and corruption,” echoed Dorian.  “I have known something of both.  It seems terrible to me now that they should ever be found together.  For I have a new ideal, Harry.  I am going to alter.  I think I have altered.”

“You have not yet told me what your good action was.  Or did you say you had done more than one?” asked his companion as he spilled into his plate a little crimson pyramid of seeded strawberries and, through a perforated, shell-shaped spoon, snowed white sugar upon them.

“I can tell you, Harry.  It is not a story I could tell to any one else.  I spared somebody.  It sounds vain, but you understand what I mean.  She was quite beautiful and wonderfully like Sibyl Vane.  I think it was that which first attracted me to her.  You remember Sibyl, don’t you?  How long ago that seems!  Well, Hetty was not one of our own class, of course.  She was simply a girl in a village.  But I really loved her.  I am quite sure that I loved her.  All during this wonderful May that we have been having, I used to run down and see her two or three times a week.  Yesterday she met me in a little orchard.  The apple-blossoms kept tumbling down on her hair, and she was laughing.  We were to have gone away together this morning at dawn.  Suddenly I determined to leave her as flowerlike as I had found her.”

“I should think the novelty of the emotion must have given you a thrill of real pleasure, Dorian,” interrupted Lord Henry.  “But I can finish your idyll for you.  You gave her good advice and broke her heart.  That was the beginning of your reformation.”

“Harry, you are horrible!  You mustn’t say these dreadful things.  Hetty’s heart is not broken.  Of course, she cried and all that.  But there is no disgrace upon her.  She can live, like Perdita, in her garden of mint and marigold.”

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