"Yes, oh yes, easily," said the old lady, and then with an awful effort she wrote—
"Your ever-loving Mother."
At that moment Ibrahim in his green caftan, carrying a small black bag, brought the English chaplain into the room.
"Peace be to this house," said the clergyman, using the words of his Church ritual, and the Egyptian nurse, thinking it was an Eastern salutation, answered, "Peace!"
The Chaplain went into the "boys' room" to put on his surplice, and when he came out, robed in white, and began to light the candles and prepare the vessels which he placed on the side-table, the old lady was talking to Fatimah in nervous whispers—
"His lordship?" "Yes!" "Do you think, my lady——"
She wanted the Consul-General to be present and was half afraid to send for him; but just at that instant the door opened again, and her pale, spiritual face lit up with a smile as she saw her husband come into the room.
The clergyman was now ready to begin, and the old lady looked timidly across the bed at the Consul-General as if there were something she wished to ask and dared not.
"Yes, I will take the sacrament with you, Janet," said the old man, and then the old lady's face shone like the face of an angel.
The Consul-General took the chair by the side of the bed and the Chaplain began the service—