picture of the last supper

picture of the last supper
ever revealed such flaming and flashing eyes.
I know not whether the day was fair or foul; in descending the
drive, I gazed neither on sky nor earth: my heart was with my eyes;
and both seemed migrated into Mr. Rochester's frame. I wanted to see
the invisible thing on which, as we went along, he appeared to
fasten a glance fierce and fell. I wanted to feel the thoughts whose
force he seemed breasting and resisting.
At the churchyard wicket he stopped: he discovered I was quite
out of breath. 'Am I cruel in my love?' he said. 'Delay an instant:
lean on me, Jane.'
picture of the last supper
And now I can recall the picture of the grey old house of God
rising calm before me, of a rook wheeling round the steeple, of a
ruddy morning sky beyond. I remember something, too, of the green
grave-mounds; and I have not forgotten, either, two figures of
strangers straying amongst the low hillocks and reading the
mementoes graven on the few mossy head-stones. I noticed them,
because, as they saw us, they passed round to the back of the
church; and I doubted not they were going to enter by the side-aisle
door and witness the ceremony. By Mr. Rochester they were not
observed; he was earnestly looking at my face, from which the blood
picture of the last supper