Uncle Abraham’s Romance

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
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how to volunteer, please contact LibriVox dot org. Recording by
Peter Yearsley. Uncle Abraham's Romance by e Nesbitt. No, my dear,

(00:27):
my uncle Abraham answered me. No, nothing romantic ever happened
to me unless but no, that wasn't romantic either. I
was to me, I, being eighteen, romance was the world.
My uncle Abraham was old and lame. I followed the
gaze of his faded eyes, and my own rested on

(00:50):
a miniature that hung at his elbow chair's right hand,
A portrait of a woman whose loveliness, even the miniature
painter's art had been powerless to discus. A woman with
large eyes that shone, and face of that alluring oval
which one hardly sees nowadays. I rose to look at it.

(01:11):
I had looked at it a hundred times, often enough
in my baby days. I had asked, who's that, uncle,
and always the answer was the same, A lady who
died long ago, My dear. As I looked again at
the picture, I asked, was she like this? Who you're

(01:32):
You're romance. Uncle Abraham looked hard at me. Yes, he said,
at last, very very like. I sat down on the
floor by him. Won't you tell me about her? There's
nothing to tell, he said. I think it was fancy
mostly and folly, but it's the realest thing in my life,

(01:55):
my dear. A long pause, I kept silent. You should
always give people time, especially old people, I remember, he said,
in a dreamy tone, always promising so well to the
ear that loves a story. I remember when I was
a young man, I was very lonely. Indeed, I never

(02:18):
had a sweetheart. I was always lame, my dear, from
quite a boy, and the girls used to laugh at me.
Silence again, Presently, he went on. And so I got
into the way of mooning off by myself in lonely places.
And one of my favorite walks was up through our churchyard,

(02:38):
which was set on a hill in the middle of
the marsh country. I liked that because I never met
any one there. It's all over years ago. I was
a silly lad, but I couldn't bear of a summer
evening to hear a rustle and a whisper from the
other side of the hedge, or maybe a kiss as
I went by. Well, I used to to go and

(03:00):
sett all by myself in the churchyard, which was always
sweet with the time, and quite light on account of
its being so high. Long after the marshes were dark.
I used to watch the bats flitting about in the
red light and wonder why God didn't make every bun's
legs straight and strong and wicked follies like that. But

(03:22):
by the time the light was gone, I had always
worked it off, so to speak, and could go home
quietly and say my prayers without bitterness. Well, one hot
night in August, when I had watched the sunset fade
and the crescent moon grow golden, I was just stepping
over the low stone wall of the churchyard when I

(03:43):
heard a rustle behind me. I turned round, expecting it
to be a rabbit or a bird. It was a woman.
He looked at the portrait, so did I. Yes, he
said that was her very face. I was a bit
scared and said something I don't know what. She laughed
and said, did I think she was a ghost? And

(04:04):
I answered back? And I stayed talking to her over
the churchyard wall till it was quite dark and the
glow worms were out in the wet grass all along
the way home. Next night I saw her again, and
the next and the next, always at twilight time, and
if I passed any lovers leaning on the stiles in

(04:26):
the marshes, it was nothing to me. Now again, my
uncle paused, It was very long ago, he said, shyly,
and I'm an old man, but I know what youth
means and happiness. Though I was always lame and the
girls used to laugh at me. I don't know how

(04:47):
long it went on. You don't measure time in dreams.
But at last, your grandfather said, I looked as if
I had one foot in the grave, and he would
be sending me to stay with our kid in bath,
and to take the waters I had to go. I
could not tell my father why I would rather die
than go. What was her name, uncle, I asked. She

(05:08):
never would tell me her name, and why should she.
I had names enough in my heart to call her
by marriage, my dear. Even then I knew marriage was
not for me. But I met her night after night,
always in our churchyard, where the eye trees were, and
the old crooked gravestones so thick in the grass. It

(05:32):
was there we always met, and always parted. The last
time was the night before I went away. She was
very sad and dearer than life itself, and she said,
if you come back before the new moon, I shall
meet you here just as usual. But if the new
moon shines on this grave and you are not here,

(05:54):
you will never see me again any more. She laid
her hand on the tomb against which we had been leaning.
It was an old lichened, weather worn stone, and its
inscription was just Susannah King's North ob seventeen twenty three.
I shall be here, I said, I mean it. She said,

(06:17):
very seriously and slowly. It is no fancy. You will
be here when the new moon shines. I promised, and
after a while we parted. I had been with my
kinsfolk in Bath for nearly a month. I was to
go home on the next day. When turning over a
case in the parlor, I came upon that miniature. I

(06:39):
could not speak for a minute. At last, I said,
with dry tongue and heart beating to the tune of
Heaven and Hell, who is this? That? Said my aunt? Oh,
she was betrothed to one of our family years ago,
but she died before the wedding. They say she was
a bit of a witch, A handsome one, wasn't she.
I looked again at the face, the lips, the eyes

(07:01):
of my dear lovely love, whom I was to meet
to morrow night, when the new moon shone on that
tomb in our churchyard. Did you say she was dead?
I asked, and hardly knew my own voice, years and
years ago, and names on the back and the date.
I took the portrait out of its case. I remember

(07:22):
just the color of its faded red velvet bed, and
read on the back Susanna King's North ob seventeen twenty three.
That was in eighteen twenty three. My uncle stopped short.
What happened? I asked, breathlessly. I believe I had a fit,

(07:43):
My uncle answered slowly. At any rate, I was very ill.
And you missed the new moon on the grave. I
missed the new moon on the grave, and you never
saw her again. I never saw her again. But uncle,
do you really believe can the dead was she? Did you?

(08:04):
My uncle took his pipe and filled it. It's a
long time ago, he said, A many many years old
men's tales, My dear, old men's tales. Don't you take
any notice of them? He lighted the pipe and puffed silently.
A moment or two before he said, but I know

(08:26):
what youth means, and love and happiness, though I was
always lame and the girls used to laugh at me.
End of Uncle Abraham's Romance by e Asbit