It was the close of New Year's Day, and Lily and Ada Lawrence stood together in the grand drawing-room, their arms fondly interlaced, the glow of firelight and gaslight shining down like a blessing on their golden heads.

Ada was perfectly lovely in an elegant costume of white cashmere and blue brocaded silk. The only ornaments of her fair girlish beauty were knots of fragrant blue and white violets.

"My darling sister," said the younger girl affectionately, "you look very weary. Sit down here in this comfortable arm-chair and rest."

She drew forward the chair as she spoke, but before Lily could seat herself two more visitors were announced. They were Lancelot Darling and Philip St. John.

Lancelot's friend was duly presented to Lily, and after a little friendly chatter Lance stole away with his darling to the quiet library.

"My dearest, I am very selfish," he said to her fondly. "I want you all to myself, that I may look at you, listen to you, and feel that my happiness is real, and not a dream from which I may awaken to the pangs of bereavement!"

They sat down together on a low divan before the glowing fire. Lancelot drew the golden head down upon his breast and pressed passionate, lingering kisses on the sweet red lips of his long-lost darling.

"My darling," he whispered, presently, "our wedding-day has been long deferred, When shall I have the happiness of claiming you before all the world?"

"Papa and Ada could not bear to give me up yet," said Lily, smiling at his eagerness.

"I do not want to be selfish, love," he said; "I know you wish to stay with them a little longer, and I know how hard it would be to them to give you up now. But you must pity my loneliness and come to me soon."

"I want to get my roses back first," she answered, demurely. "I am so weak and weary from all that I have suffered that I should be a pale and faded bride if I came to you now. You must wait, dear Lance, until I grow strong and well again before I don the bridal veil."

"How long must I wait, then?" he inquired.

"Till the roses come again," she answered; "you know how I love the summer, with its beautiful sunshine and fragrant flowers. I should like for the happiest event of my life to be associated with the sweetest month in the year. Let it be in June."

Lance was beginning a passionate protest when the door opened and Mr. Lawrence entered.

The banker looked very bright and happy as his eyes fell on the handsome pair before him.

"Here, papa," said Lily, making room for him beside her; "I am very glad you have come, for I think Lance was just about to find fault with me."

"On what pretext?" inquired her father, kissing her sweet, upturned lips.

"For cruelty," said Lance, promptly. "She actually intends to defer our marriage until June."

"Soon enough," said the banker, laughing at the young man's impatience. "You must leave us our darling yet awhile, Lance. Come and see her every day if you choose, my boy, but do not persuade her to leave us yet. It will be hard to give her up, even to you."

When the beautiful "month of roses" came round again, Mr. Lawrence had to lose both his lovely daughters.

Philip St. John had wooed and won the beautiful, girlish Ada, and Lily's bridal day was to be hers also.

Once again Lily stood in her old familiar chamber, with the robes of satin and lace trailing over the velvet carpet, and the snowy mist of the bridal veil hiding the blushes that came and went on her lovely face.

"There is no one to envy your happiness now, Lily," said Ada, as she clasped the pearl necklace around her sister's snowy neck. "That dreadful woman is dead!"

"It is so cruel a thing to remember, dear; let us try to forget the sin, and forgive the sinner!"

"Amen!" said Ada, solemnly.

Mr. Lawrence came in, and kissed and blessed them with a sadness on his face that he could not wholly hide. The only alleviation to the sorrow of that hour was the knowledge that he was giving the happiness of his beloved children into the keeping of "good men and true."

"Papa, you must not forget what I told you once before," whispered Lily, through April tears and smiles. "You will not lose your daughters; you will only gain two sons."

Lily was to go to a beautiful home on Fifth avenue, close to that of her father. Lancelot had been busy for months preparing his splendid mansion for the home-coming of his bride, and now it only awaited the sunshine of her presence to become an earthly Eden.

Ada and her husband were to live with the banker. His great house would be so lonely, the old man pleaded, with both his darlings gone. So they yielded to his wish and promised to make his house their home as long as he lived.

The grand portals of Trinity Church opened wide to admit the two lovely brides.

New York had never seen a grander marriage, nor brides so lovely, nor bridegrooms more gallant and handsome. Trinity was thronged with their friends, and the pavements outside were crowded with interested spectators. No marriage had excited so much interest for years as that of the lovely girl whose romantic story was known far and wide.

"She is beautiful as a dream," they whispered, when the first bride passed over the flower-strewn pavement to the church steps. "And the sister is equally lovely," they cried, rapturously, when the trembling Ada followed after her.

"God bless them both!" whispered a good woman who had a prominent seat in the church.

It was Mrs. Mason, the kind soul whom Lily had not forgotten when her wedding cards were issued to her friends.

So amid good wishes and blessings the fair brides passed up the stately aisle on the arms of their father, followed by a score of lovely bridesmaids in snowy flower-bedecked robes. At the altar they were met by Lancelot and Philip, and then, above the pealing notes of the wedding march, the minister's voice arose in the beautiful words of the marriage service.

Silence brooded over the throng softly as the wings of a dove, while the holy, reverent words filled the church. In the stillness the sweet responses of the brides even were distinctly audible. The rings were slipped upon their fingers, the solemn words of the benediction were spoken, and then, with the sweet strains of music echoing above their heads, the fragrance of flowers beneath their feet, and the tender blessings of friends around them, the two beautiful brides, with their chosen mates, went forth with smiles to the future that lay beaming in the sunshine of love and happiness.

[THE END.]