She pondered over these words. 'You were singing my songs, my dearest'
'I hope they did not disturb you, mother.'
'What sweeter music could I hear, dear child? But what made you sing them?'
'I was thinking of the old times, mother, when you and I were together, and when you used to work late in the night for me. There was a prayer in my heart while I was singing.'
'What prayer, my dearest?'
'That I might be able to repay you by my love for the love you have given me all my life. That God would be merciful to me, and would give me the power to show you that I love you with all my heart and soul, and to prove that as no son ever had a more loving mother than you have been to me, so no mother ever had a son who was filled with a deeper love than I have for you.'
'Dear child! darling child!' she said, with deep-drawn sighs of happiness, what can I say to you for your goodness to me? I do not deserve it! I do not deserve it!' She folded me in her arms, and I lay by her side with my face pressed close to hers.
'If you say that, mother, I shall think you do not believe me.'
'No, no, dear child, I do believe it. These are tears of joy that I am shedding. And we two are alone, darling!'
'Yes, mother, and I only want one thing to make me quite happy.'