But although there was consternation in the ranks of the anti-Federalists at this momentous defection, Clinton stood like an old lion at bay, with his other leaders behind him, his wavering ranks still coherent under his practised manipulation.  For several days more the battle raged, and on the night before what promised to be the day of the final vote, Hamilton received a note from Mrs. Croix.

     July 24.

DEAR SIR:  The case is more desperate than you think.  The weakening caused by the defection of the great Lieutenant has been counteracted in large measure by the General.  His personal influence is enormous, his future like yours is at stake; he is desperate.  It all rests with you.  Make your great and final effort to-morrow.  It is a wonderful responsibility, sir—­the whole future of this country dependent upon what flows from your brain a few hours hence, but as you have won other great victories by efforts almost unprecedented, so you will win this.  I am not so presumptuous as to write this to inspire you, merely to assure you of a gravity, which, after so long and energetic a contest, you might be disposed to underrate.

Hamilton was very grateful for this note, and answered it more warmly than had been his habit.  His friends were deep in gloomy prognostications, for it was impossible to delay twenty-four hours longer.  He had made converts, but not enough to secure a majority; and his followers did not conceive that even he could put forth an effort more convincing or more splendid than many of his previous achievements.  In consequence, his susceptible nature had experienced a chill, for he was Gallic enough to compass greater things under the stimulus of encouragement and prospective success; but this unquestioning belief in him by a woman for whose mind he was beginning to experience a profound admiration, sent his quicksilver up to a point where he felt capable of all things.  She had scored one point for herself.  He felt that it would be unpardonable longer to accept such favours as she showered upon him unsought, and make no acknowledgment beyond a civil note:  he expressed his desire to call upon her when they were both in New York once more.  “But not here in Arcadia!” he thought.  “I’ll call formally at her lodgings and take Troup or Morris with me.  Morris will doubtless abduct her, and that will be the end of it.”

IX

On the following day every shop was closed in Poughkeepsie.  The men, even many of the women, stood for hours in the streets, talking little, their eyes seldom wandering from the Court-house, many of them crowding close to the walls, that they might catch a ringing phrase now and again.  By this time they all knew Hamilton’s voice, and they confessed to a preference for his lucid precision.  In front of the Court-house, under a tree, an express messenger sat beside his horse, saddled for a wild dash to New York with the tidings.  The excitement seemed the more intense for the heat of the day, which half suppressed it, and all longed for the snap of the tension.