The hall of the Schuyler mansion was about twenty feet square and panelled in white.  It was decorated with holly, and for three nights before the wedding illuminated by hundreds of wax candles, while the young people danced till three in the morning.  The Schuyler house, long accustomed to entertaining, had never been gayer, and no one was more content than the chatelaine.  Although she had been reasonably sure of Elizabeth, there was no telling at what moment the maiden might yield to the romantic mania of the time, and climb out of her window at night while Hamilton stood shivering below.  Now all danger was past, and Mrs. Schuyler moved, large, placid, and still handsome, among her guests, beaming so affectionately whenever she met Mrs. Carter’s flashing eyes that Peggy and Cornelia renewed their vows to elope when the hour and the men arrived.  General Schuyler, once more on the crest of public approval, was always grave and stern, but he, too, breathed satisfaction and relief.  He was a tall man of military appearance, powerful, muscular, slender; but as his nose was large and fleshy, and he wore a ragged-looking wig with wings like Washington’s, he could not be called handsome.  It was a noble countenance, however, and his black eyes flashed and pierced.

As for Hamilton and Miss Schuyler, who had a trunk full of charming new gowns, they were as happy as two children, and danced the night through.  They were married on the 20th, in the drawing-room, in front of the splendid mantel, which the housewives had spent much time in admiring.  The bride wore the white which became her best, made with a long pointed bodice and paniers, and lace that had been worn by the wife of the first patroon.  She had risen to the dignity of a wig, and her mass of black hair was twisted mercilessly tight under the spreading white monstrosity to which her veil was attached.  Hamilton wore a black velvet coat, as befitting his impending state.  Its lining and the short trousers were of white satin.  His shapely legs were in white silk, his feet in pumps with diamond buckles, the present of Lafayette.  He, too, wore a wig,—­a close one, with a queue,—­but he got rid of it immediately after the ceremony, for it heated his head.

Hamilton had then reached his full height, about five feet six.  His bride was perhaps three inches shorter.  The world vowed that never had there been so pretty a couple, nor one so well matched in every way.  Both were the perfection of make, and the one as fair and fresh as a Scot, the other a golden gipsy, the one all fire and energy, the other docile and tender, but with sufficient spirit and intelligence.  It is seldom that the world so generously gives its blessing, but it might have withheld it, for all that Hamilton and his bride would have cared.