was her sponsor, and she counted princes, cardinals, and nobles among her conquests, and died in the abundance of wealth and honours.  If her sins found her out, they surprised her in secret only.  To the world she gave no sign, and carried an unbroken spirit and an unbowed head into a vault which looks as if not even the trump of Judgement Day could force its marble doors to open and its secrets to come forth.  But those doors closed behind her seventy-seven years later, when the greatest of her victims had been dust half a century, and many others were long since forgotten.  To-night, in her glorious triumphant womanhood she had no thought of vaults in the cold hillside of Trinity, and when Hamilton entered the room, she rose and courtesied deeply.  Then, as he bent over her hand:  “At last!  Is it you?” she exclaimed softly.  “Has this honour indeed come to my house?  I have waited a lifetime, sir, and I took pains to assure you long since of a welcome.”

“Do not remind me of those wretched wasted months,” replied Hamilton, gallantly, and Dr. Franklin nodded with approval.  “Be sure, madam, that I shall risk no reproaches in the future.”

She passed him on in the fashion of royalty, and was equally gracious to Steuben and Fish, although she did not courtesy.  The company, which had been scattered in groups, the deepest about the throne of the hostess, immediately converged and made Hamilton their common centre.  Would Washington accept?  Surely he must know.  Would he choose to be addressed as “His Serene Highness,” “His High Mightiness,” or merely as “Excellency”?  Would so haughty an aristocrat lend himself agreeably to the common forms of Republicanism, even if he had refused a crown, and had been the most jealous guardian of the liberties of the American people?  An aristocrat is an aristocrat, and doubtless he would observe all the rigid formalities of court life.  Most of those present heartily hoped that he would.  They, too, were jealous of their liberties, but had no yearning toward a republican simplicity, which, to their minds, savoured of plebianism.  Socially they still were royalists, whatever their politics, and many a coat of arms was yet in its frame.

“Of course Washington will be our first President,” replied Hamilton, who was prepared to go to Mount Vernon, if necessary.  “I have had no communication from him on the subject, but he would obey the command of public duty if he were on his death-bed.  His reluctance is natural, for his life has been a hard one in the field, and his tastes are those of a country gentleman,—­tastes which he has recently been permitted to indulge to the full for the first time.  Moreover, he is so modest that it is difficult to make him understand that no other man is to be thought of for these first difficult years.  When he does, there is no more question of his acceptance than there was of his assuming the command of the army.  As for titles they come about as a matter of course, and it is quite positive that Washington, although a Republican, will never become a Democrat.  He is a grandee and will continue to live like one, and the man who presumes to take a liberty with him is lost.”