With which dubious but innocent explanation she continued on toward the kitchen, carrying her fish. Stull offered a brief explanation to account for their plight and presence; Brandes, listening and watching the mother out of greenish, sleepy eyes, made up his mind concerning her. 56 56 While the spare room was being prepared by mother and daughter, he and Stull, seated in the sitting-room, their hats upon their knees, exchanged solemn commonplaces with the Reverend Mr. Carew. Brandes, always the gambler, always wary and reticent by nature, did all the listening before he came to conclusions that relaxed the stiffness of his attitude and the immobility of his large, round face. Then, at ease under circumstances and conditions which he began to comprehend and have an amiable contempt for, he became urbane and conversational, and a little amused to find navigation so simple, even when out of his proper element. From the book on the invalid’s knees, Brandes took his cue; and the conversation developed into a monologue on the present condition of foreign missions—skilfully inspired by the respectful attention and the brief and ingenious questions of Brandes. “Doubtless,” concluded the Reverend Mr. Carew, “you are familiar with the life of the Reverend Adoniram Judson, Mr. Brandes.” It turned out to be Brandes’ favourite book. “You will recollect, then, the amazing conditions in India which confronted Dr. Judson and his wife.” Brandes recollected perfectly—with a slow glance at Stull. “All that is changed,” said the invalid. “—God be thanked. And conditions in Armenia are changing for the better, I hope.” “Let us hope so,” returned Brandes solemnly. “To doubt it is to doubt the goodness of the Almighty,” said the Reverend Mr. Carew. His dreamy eyes became fixed on the rain-splashed window, burned a little with sombre inward light. 57 57 “In Trebizond,” he began, “in my time––”
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