Lincoln, the unknown

LINCOLN THE UNKNOWN • 61Minutes passed. . . . Slowly, inexorably, the grandfather'sclock in the hallway ticked off a quarter of an hour. Half anhour. . . . Still there was no bridegroom. Going to the frontdoor, Mrs. Edwards stared nervously down the driveway. Whatwas wrong? Could he . . . ? No! Unthinkable! Impossible!The family withdrew. . . . Whisperings. ... A hurried consultation.In the next room, Mary Todd, bedecked with bridal veil,attired in silken gown, waited . . . waited . . . nervously toyingwith the flowers in her hair. She walked to the window constantly.She peered down the street. She couldn't keep her eyesoff the clock. The palms of her hands grew wet, perspirationgathered on her brow. Another awful hour passed. He hadpromised . . . Surely . . .At nine-thirty, one by one, the guests withdrew, softly, wonderingly,and with embarrassment.When the last one had disappeared the bride-to-be tore herveil from her head, snatched the flowers from her hair, rushedsobbing up the stairway, and flung herself on the bed. She wasrent with grief. Oh, God! what would people say? She would belaughed at. Pitied. Disgraced. Ashamed to walk the streets.Great waves of bitterness, of violence, swept over her. Onemoment, she longed to have Lincoln there to take her in hisarms. The next, she longed to kill him for the hurt, for thehumiliation, he had heaped upon her.Where was Lincoln? Had he met with foul play? Had therebeen an accident? Had he run away? Had he committed suicide?No one knew.At midnight men came with lanterns, and searching partiesset out. Some explored his favorite haunts in town, otherssearched the roads leading out into the country.