picture of the last supper

picture of the last supper
washed her hands, she opened a certain little drawer, full of splendid
shreds of silk and satin, and began making a new bonnet for
Georgiana's doll. Meantime she sang: her song was-
'In the days when we were gipsying,
A long time ago.'
I had often heard the song before, and always with lively
delight; for Bessie had a sweet voice,- at least, I thought so. But
now, though her voice was still sweet, I found in its melody an
picture of the last supper
indescribable sadness. Sometimes, preoccupied with her work, she
sang the refrain very low, very lingeringly; 'A long time ago' came
out like the saddest cadence of a funeral hymn. She passed into
another ballad, this time a really doleful one.
'My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary;
Long is the way, and the mountains are wild;
Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary
picture of the last supper