. Whatever may have
been the truth upon this point, the incident threw Lincoln into profound
grief, and a period of melancholy so absorbing as to cause his friends
apprehension for his own health. Gradually, however, their studied and
devoted companionship won him back to cheerfulness, and his second
affair of the heart assumed altogether different characteristics, most
of which may be gathered from his own letters.

Two years before the death of Anne Rutledge, Mr. Lincoln had seen and
made the acquaintance of Miss Mary Owens, who had come to visit her
sister Mrs. Able, and had passed about four weeks in New Salem, after
which she returned to Kentucky. Three years later, and perhaps a year
after Miss Rutledge's death, Mrs. Able, before starting for Kentucky,
told Mr. Lincoln probably more in jest than earnest, that she would
bring her sister back with her on condition that he would become
her--Mrs. Able's--brother-in-law. Lincoln, also probably more in jest
than earnest, promptly agreed to the proposition; for he remembered Mary
Owens as a tall, handsome, dark-haired girl, with fair skin and large
blue eyes, who in conversation could be intellectual and serious as well
as jovial and witty, who had a liberal education, and was considered
wealthy--one of those well-poised, steady characters who look upon
matrimony and life with practical views and social matronly instincts.

The bantering offer was made and accepted in the autumn of 1836, and in
the following April Mr. Lincoln removed to Springfield. Before this
occurred, however, he was surprised to learn that Mary Owens had
actually returned with her sister from Kentucky, and felt that the
romantic jest had become a serious and practical question. Their first
interview dissipated some of the illusions in which each had indulged.
The three years elapsed since they first met had greatly changed her
personal appearance. She had become stout; her twenty-eight years (one
year more than his) had somewhat hardened the lines of her face. Both in
figure and feature she presented a disappointing contrast to the slim
and not yet totally forgotten Anne Rutledge.

On her part, it was more than likely that she did not find in him all
the attractions her sister had pictured. The speech and manners of the
Illinois frontier lacked much of the chivalric attentions and flattering
compliments to which the Kentucky beaux were addicted. He was yet a
diamond in the rough, and she would not