Mrs. Hazleton seemed blessed this evening with wonderful ubiquity of vision. She could not only look to the wants of her numerous guests, and see that each one was placed in his or her peculiar sphere for display—that the feet of the merry dancers stayed not for music—that the waiters were all in the quiet performance of their duties; but also that the actors in her private play of “_Manœuvering_” should not fail in the favorite parts she had allotted them. Thus when she suddenly came upon Herman Wallace and Alice evidently much engrossed by some interesting topic, and discovered the fact that the latter had never looked so well as on this evening, how adroitly she contrived to separate them by despatching Alice upon some trifling commission to another part of the room, and then, with a bland smile, requesting Wallace to go in search of her dear Julia! In a few moments, however, Julia appeared, leaning on the arm of Frank, who, by his graceful compliments, soon restored her good humor; nay, so well did he top his part in a play of his own, that, although Mrs. Hazleton’s eyes were almost blasted by seeing Wallace leading that odious Alice Churchill to the dance, while Julia herself was disengaged, she yet had not courage to break away from his flattering speeches. “How very much your sister resembles you!” said Frank, recovering from a sudden fit of absence, during which his eyes had been watching the movements of Julia. “My sister!” cried Mrs. Hazleton, blushing and laughing, “my _sister_!—my daughter you mean.” “Daughter! good heavens!” and here Cousin Frank gave a tragedy start—“you don’t mean to say that lady is your _daughter_! O, no, it cannot be—the resemblance is certainly striking—the same expressive eyes, the same noble brow, the full red lip, and luxuriant hair the same—but your daughter—it cannot be!” Mrs. Hazleton, however, was obliged to own the “soft impeachment,” while she mentally wished she had not visited Saratoga, or that she had allowed some other of the sex to avenge the sisterhood on Mrs. Hazleton, for here indeed was a prize which might else have been hers! CHAPTER VIII. UNMASKING! A few mornings after the party, both Wallace and Francis had a long and confidential interview with Mr. Hazleton, which resulted in the penning of a letter by the former to Mrs. Churchill, not, however, without the consent of the blushing Alice. Mr. Hazleton then went in search of his wife, whom he found absorbed in reflections which, could he have read her heart’s frivolous page, he would have found not at all flattering to himself. “Ah, my dear Anna, I have news for you! Who would have thought young Wallace so much in love!” “Ha! why what is it, Mr. Hazleton?” demanded his lady, eagerly. “Why that he has this morning proposed.”