leonardo da vinci last supper painting

leonardo da vinci last supper painting
I took her hand in mine, and bid her be composed: for a succession of shudders convulsed her frame, and she would keep straining her gaze towards the glass.
`There's nobody here!' I insisted. `It was yourself, Mrs Linton: you knew it a while since.'
`Myself!' she gasped, `and the clock is striking twelve! It's true, then! that's dreadful!'
Her fingers clutched the clothes, and gathered them over her eyes. I attempted to steal to the door with an intention of calling her husband; but I was summoned back by a piercing shriek--the shawl had dropped from the frame.
`Why, what is the matter?' cried I. `Who is coward now? Wake up! That is the glass--the mirror, Mrs Linton; and you see yourself in it, and there am I too, by your side.'
leonardo da vinci last supper painting
Trembling and bewildered, she held me fast, but the horror gradually passed from her countenance; its paleness gave place to a glow of shame.
`Oh, dear! I thought I was at home,' she sighed. `I thought I was lying in my chamber at Wuthering Heights. Because I'm weak, my brain got confused, and I screamed unconsciously. Don t say anything; but stay with me. I dread sleeping: my dreams appal me.'
`A sound sleep would do you good, ma'am,' I answered; `and I hope this suffering will prevent your trying starving again.'
`Oh, if I were but in my own bed in the old house!' she went on bitterly, wringing her hands, `And that wind sounding in the firs by the lattice. Do let me feel it--it comes straight down the moor--do let me have one breath!'
To pacify her, I held the casement ajar a few seconds. A cold blast rushed through; I closed it, and returned to my post. She lay still now, her face bathed in tears. Exhaustion of body had entirely subdued her spirit: our fiery Catherine was no better than a wailing child.
leonardo da vinci last supper painting