In the garden the leaves shone in the sunlight, and the flowers moved gently in the summer wind. The two young men sat on a long seat under the shadow of a tall tree.
"Before I go," said Lord Henry, "you must answer my question, Basil. Why won’t you exhibit Dorian Gray’s portrait in an art gallery." He looked at his friend and smiled. "Please, give me real reason, now. Not the answer that you gave me before."
"Harry, when an artist feels strongly about a portrait, it becomes a portrait of himself, not of the sitter. The artist paints the face and body of the sitter, but in fact he shows his own feelings. The reason why I won’t exhibit this portrait is because I’m afraid it shows the secret of my heart."
Lord Henry laughed. "And what is this secret of your heart?
His friend was silent. Lord Henry picked a flower and looked at it with interest.
"Two months ago," Basil said at last, "I was at a party at Lady Brandon’s house. I was talking to friends when I realized that someone was watching me. I turned and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. We looked at each other, and I felt a sudden, very strong fear. I felt that this person could change my life… could bring me happiness- and unhappiness. Later, Lady Brandon introduced us. We laughed at something that she said, and became friends at once."
He stopped, Lord Henry smiled. "Tell me more," he said. "How often do you see him?"
"Every day," answered Basil. "I’m not happy if I don’t see him every day- he’s necessary to my life."
"But I thought you only cared about your art," said Lord Henry. "He is all my art now," replied Basil, seriously. "Since I met Dorian Gray, the work that I’ve done is good, the best work of my life. Because of him I see art in a different way, a new way. When I’m with him, I paint wonderful pictures."
"Basil, this is extraordinary. I must meet Dorian Gray," said Lord Henry.
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 is in my heart. There’s too 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 he can enjoy for a summer’s day, and can forget tomorrow."
"Summer days, Basil," said Lord Henry with a smile, "can sometimes be 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. "Dorian Gray is my dearest friend," he said quietly. "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.