That evening Caroline settled it all with her aunt. "Aunt," said she, as they sat together brushing their hair before they went to bed, "you will think me very fanciful; but after all, I believe we had better go back by Alexandria."
"Oh dear, I shall be so glad, my dear. Jane says that I could not possibly get a travelling dress made here that I could wear."
"You could get a dress in Damascus, I don't doubt, aunt. But—"
"And I really am not fit for much more riding. I don't like to disappoint you; but if you really wouldn't mind it—"
"Well, I should mind it,—and I should not. But let me tell you. You must not think that I am so very changeable, first pressing you to go one way, and then begging you to go another, without a reason."
"No; I know you do it for my sake."
"Not that either, aunt—quite; but do listen. Mr. Bertram to-day made—"
"He has not offered to you, has he?"
"Yes, aunt; that is just what he has done. And, therefore, perhaps it will not be quite so well that we should travel together."
"But, Caroline, tell me—pray do tell me; what did he say, and what have you said? Oh dear me, this is very sudden." And Miss Baker sat back in her chair, with her now grayish hair hanging over her shoulders, with her hair-brush still held in one hand, and with the other resting on the toilet-table.