to bring him and our Polydore together. They would quite
love one another."

Helen had smiled at her brother's idea, before she noticed the gravity
with which he spoke. She then looked somewhat disturbed. In spite of
all Randolph's care, she had partly suspected the cause of his
solicitude, and had consulted Mr. Riches on the subject, suggesting
also that it might be well if they could visit Trevethlan in the
spring. The chaplain's answer had only arrived the preceding day.
There was a certain quaintness about it characteristic of the writer.

"My dear Helen," Polydore said--"your letter has warmed the heart of
your old master. I am proud that you should seek my advice, and
prouder that you so little need it. The disguise wrong? Surely I
think not. By what shall our actions be judged but by our motives?
Always provided that we do not evil that good may come. Of the
worthiness of your motive there can be no question. Is there
anything unworthy in the means? Surely, I say, I think not. When the
daw dresses himself in the peacock's plumage, we laugh and despise
him, if it is from vanity; we frown and strip him, if it is for
deceit. So the wolf cannot assume the sheep's clothing without
treachery, nor can the ass wear the lion's skin without contempt.
So, again, I prefer Alfred neglecting the neatherd's cakes, to
Alfred harping in the camp of the Danes. A king may work with honour
in a shipwright's yard, but a king should not condescend to become a
spy.

"Yet is disguise always an awkward thing. Concealment is repugnant
to a candid mind. I like it not myself, and I appreciate the
scruples you attribute to Randolph. I had rather you were
Trevethlans to the world, as to me. But he thinks himself precluded.
We will not dwell upon that. He must be idle, or he must labour
under a veil. What abstract harm is there in the metamorphosis? Whom
does it wrong? Ah, my dear Helen, I fear I am becoming entangled in
sophisms: the path which appeared so direct when I began to write,
already seems devious and difficult. To your own conscience, and to
Him who directs it, I must leave you, confident that under His
guidance you can never go astray.

"But I am warranted in cautioning you against a rash judgment. You
have delighted me, and not only me, but also our friend Griffith,
and his good helpmate, with the proposal, if