淥h, you are mad!?she cried, with a kind of helpless scorn. 淓smeralda loved the ground on which you trod! I know it擨 know it! Do you hear??  CHAPTER XXXI. 淏ut why not??he asked, with surprise. 淲hy should I not have that pleasure? There is the priory.?He nodded to some stately ruins, and Esmeralda drove up to them and looked at them with interest. 2018高清日本一道国产 She put out her hand to him impulsively, and he took it, held it for a moment in his firm grasp, then bent over and kissed it. 楢nd I have never seen such a priest as thou.?Kim considered the benevolent yellow face wrinkle by wrinkle. 業t is less than three days since we took the road together, and it is as though it were a hundred years.? Arriving, in due time, at Mrs. Lyte's gate, the Major dismounted, and was about to enter, when his eyes fell on the little tin plate, in Bergan's office window, which has before been mentioned. If it had been the head of Medusa, with all its supernatural powers intact, it could scarcely have wrought a more complete change in the expression of his face. First, he glared at it in incredulous wonder; then, he nearly choked with inarticulate rage; finally, words came to his relief. To the consternation of Mrs. Lyte, and the intense gratification of the crowd of boys and negroes which quickly gathered at a safe distance, he proceeded to pour forth a volley of the bitterest curses that he could frame upon the author of what he chose to consider an insult to himself, and a disgrace to his lineage. Scarcely were the insulting words spoken ere Bergan felt, with a thrill of dismay, a hot tingling sensation in all his veins, as if the blood in them had suddenly been turned to fire. Too well he knew what it meant. The "black Bergan temper," which had been the one, great sorrow and struggle of his life, thus far, and which he had believed to be completely tamed, was stirring within him in a way to show that, if it were not instantly controlled, it would carry him, in its headlong fury, he knew not whither. Every other feeling, every other thought, were, for the moment, swallowed up in the instinct of self-preservation. He would submit to his uncle's imperious dictation, not that he either prized his love or feared his anger, but because that treacherous demon within must at once feel a firm foot upon its neck, and be shown that it could expect no indulgence, and no quarter. Stepping to an open French window, Mr. Bergan slightly raised his voice and called,?