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!"