She slowly shook her head.
"I am dying, sir. I have been dying for the last two days look at my lips."
"They are red and fresh, and show that you are in health, Sitta
Khadra."
"Yea, my lips are red, because I have colored them with henna, that Mohammed may not see how pale they are. For him I have colored my cheeks, too. Good sir, one may deceive out of love, and Allah will forgive me for having made my face a lie out of love for my son. I tell you I am dying; therefore have I come to bring you the goods, and to beg you to take the money and keep it. When he is in want give it to him, and tell him Mother Khadra sends it with her best blessing, and that he must accept it as a present from me, and make a good use of it. I know, sir, that you will give it to him, and that you will watch over him that you may know when he needs it.
"And one thing more I beg of you, whenever you see my beloved son, say to him: —Mohammed Ali, your mother Khadra, loved you very dearly, and sends you a greeting from Heaven, through me. She dwells, above with your father, Ibrahim Aga, and both are looking down upon you, and observing your actions. Therefore be thoughtful, Mohammed, to walk pure and free in the sight of Allah and your parents. Promise me, that you will often say this to my son."
"I promise, Sitta Khadra," said the merchant, solemnly. "I promise you that I will watch over your dear son, and that, if it is in my power, I will at all times be ready to lend him a helping hand. I give you my hand to seal this promise, Sitta Khadra."
She took his hand, and the merchant knew by the heat of her thin, wan fingers that a burning fever was in her blood, and that Death had kissed her lips.
"Now, all is well," said she, as she rose to her feet with a painful effort. "Now I will return home, that my darling, my Mohammed, may find me when he comes. I have but a few more days to live, and I would not lose a moment that I can spend with him. Farewell! Allah be with you!"