“I wish it were stopped for ever, Harry,” he answered bitterly.  “The whole thing is hideous and cruel.  Is the man ... ?”

He could not finish the sentence.

“I am afraid so,” rejoined Lord Henry.  “He got the whole charge of shot in his chest.  He must have died almost instantaneously.  Come; let us go home.”

They walked side by side in the direction of the avenue for nearly fifty yards without speaking.  Then Dorian looked at Lord Henry and said, with a heavy sigh, “It is a bad omen, Harry, a very bad omen.”

“What is?” asked Lord Henry.  “Oh! this accident, I suppose.  My dear fellow, it can’t be helped.  It was the man’s own fault.  Why did he get in front of the guns?  Besides, it is nothing to us.  It is rather awkward for Geoffrey, of course.  It does not do to pepper beaters.  It makes people think that one is a wild shot.  And Geoffrey is not; he shoots very straight.  But there is no use talking about the matter.”

Dorian shook his head.  “It is a bad omen, Harry.  I feel as if something horrible were going to happen to some of us.  To myself, perhaps,” he added, passing his hand over his eyes, with a gesture of pain.

The elder man laughed.  “The only horrible thing in the world is ennui, Dorian.  That is the one sin for which there is no forgiveness.  But we are not likely to suffer from it unless these fellows keep chattering about this thing at dinner.  I must tell them that the subject is to be tabooed.  As for omens, there is no such thing as an omen.  Destiny does not send us heralds.  She is too wise or too cruel for that.  Besides, what on earth could happen to you, Dorian?  You have everything in the world that a man can want.  There is no one who would not be delighted to change places with you.”

“There is no one with whom I would not change places, Harry.  Don’t laugh like that.  I am telling you the truth.  The wretched peasant who has just died is better off than I am.  I have no terror of death.  It is the coming of death that terrifies me.  Its monstrous wings seem to wheel in the leaden air around me.  Good heavens! don’t you see a man moving behind the trees there, watching me, waiting for me?”

Lord Henry looked in the direction in which the trembling gloved hand was pointing.  “Yes,” he said, smiling, “I see the gardener waiting for you.  I suppose he wants to ask you what flowers you wish to have on the table to-night.  How absurdly nervous you are, my dear fellow!  You must come and see my doctor, when we get back to town.”

Dorian heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the gardener approaching.  The man touched his hat, glanced for a moment at Lord Henry in a hesitating manner, and then produced a letter, which he handed to his master.  “Her Grace told me to wait for an answer,” he murmured.

Dorian put the letter into his pocket.  “Tell her Grace that I am coming in,” he said, coldly.  The man turned round and went rapidly in the direction of the house.