[Jane Eyre] The mad woman in the attic is reborn

When we returned to Thornfield Manor, everything was as usual.

Mrs. Fairfax went up to the third floor, stood at the door and knocked, "Mrs. Bertha."

"Come in," Bertha whispered to the door.

Fairfax came in with a stack of clothes in his arms, and said, "Oh ma'am, these are clothes delivered by a shop this afternoon, and they are said to be custom-made by you."

Bertha took it and nodded, "That's right, have you settled the bill with them?"

"It's settled. Mr. Rochester is also here. He paid the bill."

Bertha froze for a moment, bit her lower lip lightly, and thought, "I see, you can go out."

"Okay, ma'am."

She looked at the clothes that she chose today on the bed, and suddenly felt very strange. They were obviously her favorite styles in her boudoir, but somehow, those days seemed to have passed for a long time.

Today is the night of the full moon, looking out through the wooden window frame, the bright and clear moon hangs high there like a silver plate.

Putting on the dress for the dinner, putting on makeup, gloves and a hat, Bertha opened the door to pick up Adela. They agreed that they would go to Fernard's house for a dinner tonight.

As soon as the door opened, a figure bumped into her face. Bertha raised her head, her expression stunned.

It was Mr. Rochester.

He was wearing an evening dress suit, his hair was combed into a gentleman's style, and he wore a black hat on his head. He was looking down at her, unable to see what his intentions were.

Bertha called softly: "Mr. Rochester..."

He looked up, staring at the shiny jewelry on her earlobe, and rarely praised, "It's beautiful."

She was stunned for a moment, then recovered her expression, the corners of her mouth curled up, a dimple curled up and she smiled, "Thank you."

He stretched out his arms and leaned towards Bertha, and said lightly, "Let's go to Roy's house for a dinner together."

Bertha chuckled, and said coldly: "Mr. Rochester is going to reveal that I am your wife? It's not very good for you."

"Then as a female companion, how about it?" He said and stretched out his hand towards her.

Bertha couldn't understand what he meant, she stared at his approaching arms, suddenly turned cold, and said in a deep voice, "No need for Mr. Rochester, I already have a partner." After speaking, she passed him to the stairs go.

Adela's room was on the first floor. Bertha went to the door and knocked, calling softly: "Sweetie, we are leaving."

After knocking for a while, there was no answer. Bertha was about to open the door and enter when Sophia suddenly came out of the room and said with a worried expression, "Oh Mrs. Bertha, Miss Adela may not be able to attend the dinner with you."

Bertha: "What's wrong?"

"Miss Adela is not feeling well, she is very dizzy, she probably caught a cold when she came back at night, she just vomited, and she has fallen asleep now."

Bertha blamed herself: "I must have taken her out during the day to catch the cold, did you call for a doctor?"

Sophia shook her head: "It's too late, I fell asleep after taking some medicine."

"Then you should pay more attention at night, don't let her kick the quilt. She won't be allowed to go to the dinner party, and bring her a cake when you come back."

Sophia said: "Then thank you, madam."

It was already dark outside, and when they arrived at Saild's mansion, Bertha and Rochester entered the room one after the other, because everyone was talking and no one noticed.

Holding the goblet in his hand, Fernard turned around and saw the person at the door and the man behind her. He walked over, pursed his lips at Bertha, nodded at Rochester, and said, "Thank you!" Mr. Rochester would like to come to the housewarming dinner."

A servant brought up a wine glass, Rochester took it, looked at him, clinked his glass, and said with a smile on his lips: "Mr. Roy is welcome to settle down in the town, and I hope we can become good neighbors."

Fernard nodded lightly in response, then walked around in front of Bertha, bowed down in a gentleman's salute, raised his hand in front of her, and said with a smile: "Miss Strawberry, I'm honored to invite you to dance dance?"

Bertha looked down and saw the slender and well-boned hand in front of her. When she heard him call her Little Strawberry, she suddenly remembered that when he was at the market during the day, he said he liked Little Strawberry.She is not an innocent little girl, she can hear the mystery in the words.

Putting her hand on his palm, her eyebrows and eyes are curved, and the dimples on her face can be seen by lightly curling the corners of her mouth. Her eyebrows and eyes meet him, with her own charm, she tilts her head and says: "Together with Mr. Fernard It's an honor to dance."

With a smile on his lips, he easily took her hand and took her to the center of the hall. The melodious and brisk music came slowly, mixed with the sound of clashing cups, which added a different atmosphere to the whole scene.

Fernard held her hand, his right hand lightly embraced her waist, following the rhythm of the music, you came and went, more than advancing and retreating.

He was attached to her temples, and he could clearly smell the smell of her body. The faint rose fragrance permeated from the tip of the nose to the tip of the heart, making it unforgettable for a long time.

"Do you like roses?" He asked her suddenly.

Bertha hummed, "Of all the flowers, I only like roses."

Fernard laughed, and said warmly: "That's still a coincidence. There happened to be a rose garden in the back garden. It seemed like fate was waiting for you to come."

Bertha raised her head suddenly, her earlobe touched his chin, and it became hot immediately. She squinted at him and said softly, "You've been drinking."

He breathed heavily, smiled lightly, and let out a shallow hum, "I drank a few glasses of whiskey, and I'm still sober."

Sure enough, the people who drank were different from usual, at least Bertha knew that on such a grand occasion, he would not openly call her Miss Strawberry, nor would he flirt with her in front of Rochester.

The corner of Bertha's mouth twitched slightly, "Really?"

"Probably." His brows and eyes twitched, and there seemed to be thousands of mountains and rivers in his eyes. He suddenly changed his tone and chuckled, "I still recognize you, the painting in Seville, that painting. It's you."

She couldn't understand what he said, what Seville, she didn't know what it meant.

After blinking, Fernard raised his eyes to look at her, his eyes were fixed on her long eyelashes, the light from the colored glaze cast a blue shadow, and his heart suddenly missed a beat.

He admitted that he liked her.

Because of a portrait.

It's ridiculous, but it's true, the scene of love at first sight happened to him.

Bertha raised her chin slightly, and the two looked at each other for a long time, then she suddenly asked him, "I must have seen you before, didn't I?"

She has an impression, and he exists in her memory.She has met many people, and some people may not be able to remember, but when they meet again, there will always be an illusion of deja vu.

But this is another kind of drama.

At least Fernard thought so.He hooked his lips and smiled lightly, holding her hand tightly with his left hand, the soft and greasy catkin felt real in his hand, "Probably in a dream, little strawberry appeared in my dream, so We're connected."

Mind figured out?

Bertha was stunned again and again. She never knew that Fernard, who was a gentleman in appearance, would say such a thing. If she hadn't smelled his unique scent, she even thought that the person dancing with her might be the crazy And crooked Elijah.

"Oh, Mr. Fernard, you must be teasing me." She raised her head to meet his deep eyebrows and said with certainty.

Fernard smiled lightly, "You said the same thing last time."

"Is that so?" She raised her head and pulled out a very innocent smile.

I don't know why, but this time he didn't play charades with her as usual, he readily admitted, "That's right, I was teasing you, just like last time."

Bertha was stunned. The story should not have developed like this. He should still be able to walk freely in this scene as usual, and then retreated completely.

Now, she was the one who fled.

"You're drunk." Bertha smiled loosely, stopped in her tracks, slipped her hand out of his palm, and withdrew from his embrace, without hesitation at all.