Chapter 19

           Itwasalovelynight,sowarmthathethrewhiscoatoverhisarm,anddidnotevenputhissilkscarfroundhisthroat. Ashestrolledhome,smokinghiscigarette,twoyoungmenineveningdresspassedhim. Heheardoneofthemwhispertotheother,"ThatisDorianGray. "Herememberedhowpleasedheusedtobewhenhewaspointedout,orstaredat,ortalkedabout. Hewastiredofhearinghisownnamenow. Halfthecharmofthelittlevillagewherehehadbeensooftenlatelywasthatnooneknewwhohewas. Hehadoftentoldthegirlwhomhehadluredtolovehimthathewaspoor,andshehadbelievedhim. Hehadtoldheroncethathewaswicked,andshehadlaughedathim,andansweredthatwickedpeoplewerealwaysveryoldandveryugly. Whatalaughshehad! —justlikeathrushsinging. Andhowprettyshehadbeeninhercottondressesandherlargehats! Sheknewnothing,butshehadeverythingthathehadlost. 

           Whenhereachedhome,hefoundhisservantwaitingupforhim. Hesenthimtobed,andthrewhimselfdownonthesofainthelibrary,andbegantothinkoversomeofthethingsthatLordHenryhadsaidtohim. 

           Wasitreallytruethatonecouldneverchange? Hefeltawildlongingfortheunstainedpurityofhisboyhood—hisrose-whiteboyhood,asLordHenryhadoncecalledit. Heknewthathehadtarnishedhimself,filledhismindwithcorruption,andgivenhorrortohisfancy; thathehadbeenanevilinfluencetoothers,andhadexperiencedaterriblejoyinbeingso; andthat,ofthelivesthathadcrossedhisown,ithadbeenthefairestandthemostfullofpromisethathehadbroughttoshame. Butwasitallirretrievable? Wastherenohopeforhim?