van gogh painting

van gogh painting
high-backed and narrow; stools still more antiquated, on whose
cushioned tops were yet apparent traces of half-effaced
embroideries, wrought by fingers that for two generations had been
coffin-dust. All these relics gave to the third storey of Thornfield
Hall the aspect of a home of the past: a shrine of memory. I liked the
hush, the gloom, the quaintness of these retreats in the day; but I by
no means coveted a night's repose on one of those wide and heavy beds:
shut in, some of them, with doors of oak; shaded, others, with wrought
van gogh painting
old English hangings crusted with thick work, portraying effigies of
strange flowers, and stranger birds, and strangest human beings,-
all which would have looked strange, indeed, by the pallid gleam of
moonlight.
'Do the servants sleep in these rooms?' I asked.
'No; they occupy a range of smaller apartments to the back; no
one ever sleeps here: one would almost say that, if there were a ghost
at Thornfield Hall, this would be its haunt.'
van gogh painting