"Only to see and kiss my boy! It would have been so easy to go then."
Fatimah, who was snuffling audibly, as she straightened the eider-down coverlet over the bed, began to hint that if her "sweet eyes" could not see her son she could send him a message.
"Perhaps I know somebody who could see it reaches him, too," said Fatimah, in a husky whisper.
The old lady understood her instantly.
"You mean Hafiz! I always thought as much. Bring me my writing-case—quick!"
The writing-case was brought and laid open before her, and she made some effort to write a letter, but the power of life in her was low, and after a moment the shaking pen dropped from her fingers.
"Ma'aleysh, my lady!" said Fatimah soothingly. "Tell me what you wish to say. I will remember everything."
Then the dying mother sent a few touching words as her last message to her beloved son.
"Wait! Let me think. My head is a little ... just a little ... Yes, this is what I wish to say, Fatimah. Tell my boy that my last thoughts were about him. Though I am sorry he took the side of the false prophet, say I am certain he did what he thought was right. Be sure you tell him I die happy, because I know I shall see him again. If I am never to see him in this world I shall do so in the world to come. Say I shall be waiting for him there. And tell him it will not seem long."
"Could you sign your name for him, my heart?" said Fatimah, in her husky voice.