"And quite right, my good sir," said Cornelius, advancing into the room. "What saith Marsilius Ficinus, one of old Burton's quaint physicians? 'Other men look to their tools; a painter will wash his pencils, a smith take heed to his forge, and a husband-man to his plough; a falconer and a huntsman care for their hawks and hounds; only scholars neglect that instrument--their brain and spirits, I mean--which they daily use, and by which they range over all the world, but which by much study is consumed.' But I protest--I beg pardon--and hark! there's the stage. Good-morning, Miss Morton--good-morning." And with several bows he bustled out of the little parlour. "A kind-hearted creature," observed Randolph, "as ever breathed. I should like 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.