leonardo da vinci last supper painting

leonardo da vinci last supper painting
the privilege of free action I should under similar circumstances have
accorded them.
I left Moor House at three o'clock P.M., and soon after four I
stood at the foot of the sign-post of Whitcross, waiting the arrival
of the coach which was to take me to distant Thornfield. Amidst the
silence of those solitary roads and desert hills, I heard it
approach from a great distance. It was the same vehicle whence, a year
ago, I had alighted one summer evening on this very spot- how
desolate, and hopeless, and objectless! It stopped as I beckoned. I
entered- not now obliged to part with my whole fortune as the price of
its accommodation. Once more on the road to Thornfield, I felt like
leonardo da vinci last supper painting
the messenger-pigeon flying home.
It was a journey of six-and-thirty hours. I had set out from
Whitcross on a Tuesday afternoon, and early on the succeeding Thursday
morning the coach stopped to water the horses at a wayside inn,
situated in the midst of scenery whose green hedges and large fields
and low pastoral hills (how mild of feature and verdant of hue
compared with the stern North-Midland moors of Morton!) met my eye
like the lineaments of a once familiar face. Yes, I knew the character
of this landscape: I was sure we were near my bourne.
'How far is Thornfield Hall from here?' I asked of the ostler.
leonardo da vinci last supper painting