"A proper person you were to act as a young lady's guardian!" said Barkev laughing.
"I did not say 'guardian,' I said 'shadow,'" Kevork returned coolly. "One's shadow is always before or behind. So I took care to keep; only letting her know I was there, if I was wanted. There were many ways I could help her. That is how I came to be here; and I suppose the Mission folk at Aintab will have no more of me, since I have broken all their rules. But I have got a good deal of their learning already," he added with some complacency. "Yon Effendi, how are my father and my mother, and all our house in Biridjik, for we did not stay there on our way? And what in the world has brought you here?"
Jack answered his questions, marvelling the while at the mixture in his character. Shrewd, practical, and almost selfish in the pursuit of his ambition as he used to think him, he had served Elmas Stepanian with a delicate, self-sacrificing chivalry of which any lover might have been proud.
"I think," said Barkev, "you would do well to go to the Badvellie. He is very learned, and might give you the lessons you have missed."
"I will not trouble the Pastor yet," answered Kevork with decision—"not until I can go to him for something else. No; I shall beg of Miss Celandine to give me work, teaching the boys that come to her school, and study for myself in the evenings."
"You'll get on," said Barkev approvingly. "For you know what you want. 'A polished stone is not left on the ground.'"
"I might, in any other country. But," lowering his voice, "what is this I hear of fresh massacres?"
"Oh, rumours, rumours! There are always rumours. I would not think too much of them—not until we hear more."
"You may well talk of rumours," Kevork returned. "Some of the things people say are past thinking for foolishness. Do you know I heard in Aintab that some people say in Europe it is we who are massacring the Turks? As if we could, even suppose we would! Without firearms, or weapons of any kind, so much as to defend ourselves from the Kourdish robbers—good for us to think of killing Turks! 'Twould be striking the point of a goad with one's fist."
"The wolf eats the lamb, and cries out that the lamb is eating him," said Barkev. "But," he added, glancing round apprehensively, "is there any talk of the English coming to help us?"