三年疫情是哪三年

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三年疫情是哪三年　　'Ah!' cried she, in French, 'you speak my language as well as Mr.Rochester does: I can talk to you as I can to him, and so canSophie. She will be glad: nobody here understands her: MadameFairfax is all English. Sophie is my nurse; she came with me overthe sea in a great ship with a chimney that smoked- how it did smoke!-and I was sick, and so was Sophie, and so was Mr. Rochester. Mr.Rochester lay down on a sofa in a pretty room called the salon, andSophie and I had little beds in another place. I nearly fell out ofmine; it was like a shelf. And Mademoiselle- what is your name?'een kind and companionable, Ishould have deemed it a treat to spend the evenings quietly withher, instead of passing them under the formidable eye of Mrs. Reed, ina room full of ladies and gentlemen. But Bessie, as soon as she haddressed her young ladies, used to take herself off to the livelyregions of the kitchen and housekeeper's room, generally bearing thecandle along with her. I then sat with my doll on my knee till thefire got low, glancing round occasionally to make sure that nothingworse than myself haunted the shadowy room; and when the embers sankto a dull red, I undressed hastily, tugging at knots and strings asI best might, and sought shelter from cold and darkness in my crib. Tothis crib I always took my doll; human beings must love something,and, in the dearth of worthier objects of affection, I contrived tofind a pleasure in loving and cherishing a faded graven image,shabby as a miniature scarecrow. It puzzles me now to remember withwhat absurd sincerity I doated on this little toy, half fancyi