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 his hands at such discourse. "He is a convert of mine, I verily believe," he cried; "and Elinor"—"Miss St. Clare," whispered Glenarvon, turning to the Doctor, "has long been admonished by me, to return to an indulgent uncle, and throw herself on your mercy." "My mercy!" said Sir Everard, bursting into tears,—"my gratitude. Oh! my child, my darling." "And believe me," continued Lord Glenarvon, with an air which seemed haughtily to claim belief, "I return her as innocent as she came to me. Her imagination may have bewildered and beguiled her; but her principles are uncorrupted." "Generous young nobleman!" exclaimed Sir Everard, ready to kneel before him—"noble, mighty, grand young gentleman! wonder of our age!" Lord Glenarvon literally smiled through his tears; for the ridicule of Sir Everard did not prevent his excellent and warm feelings from affecting those who knew him well. "And will she