But it was quite evident that his
punishment was unfinished, and with due humility and some humour he
bided her pleasure. Between the two women he had a lively month. Mrs.
Croix wrote him a letter a day. At first it was evident that she had
taken herself in hand, that her pen was guided by her marvellous
intelligence. She apologized charmingly for her exhibition of temper,
and for any reflection she might have made upon the most estimable of
women, who (with a sigh) had the happiness to be the wife of Alexander
Hamilton. She ignored his ultimatum and asked him to come at once, and
talk the matter over calmly. Hamilton replied with the graceful
playfulness of which he was master, but left no doubt of his continuity
of purpose. After the interchange of several letters of this complexion,
in which Mrs. Croix was quite conscious of revealing the ample resources
of her wit, spirit, and tact, she broke down and went through every
circumstance of a despairing woman fighting to recover the supreme
happiness of her life. At times she was humble, she prostrated herself
at his feet.
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