the ceremony, neither of the girls would be loud in their
lamentations.

In London, a visit paid by a niece to her uncle would, in all
probability, be made at the uncle's private residence; but at Munich
private and public matters were not so effectually divided. Isa
therefore, having put on her hat and shawl, walked off by herself to
the Schrannen Platz.

"Is Uncle Hatto inside?" she asked; and the answer was given to her
by her own lover. Yes, he was within; but the old clerk was with
him. Isa, however, signified her wish to see her uncle alone, and
in a few minutes the ancient grey-haired servant of the house came
out into the larger room.

"You can go in now, Miss Isa," he said. And Isa found herself in
the presence of her uncle before she had been two minutes under the
roof. In the mean time Ernest Heine, her father, had said not a
word, and Herbert knew that something very special must be about to
occur.

"Well, my bonny bird," said Uncle Hatto, "and what do you want at
the bank?" Cheery words, such as these, were by no means uncommon
with Uncle Hatto; but Isa knew very well that no presage could be
drawn from them of any special good nature or temporary weakness on
his part.

"Uncle Hatto," she began, rushing at once into the middle of her
affair, "you know, I believe, that I am engaged to marry Herbert
Onslow?"