The Van Buren press. [volume] (Van Buren, Ark.) 1859-1914, 1896-09-12
THE HOUSE OF LINDEAN,
by JOHN GEDDIE.

Baroara Rankin stood in the door
way of the old house of Lindean, looking
out into the gathering gloom of the
short November day. The cloud that
had camped since morning on Iindean
law had erept down TO the low ground
with the sunsetting. The mist that had
lurked in ambush in the marsh beneath
had stolen up the slope to meet it. These
two troops Of darkness had joined
forces ON the skirts of Lindean wood
the lonely house was enyeloped in thick
coming shadows. IL stands. as every
antiquary knows. in fold of the
smooth green hills that look across the
plain OF the Herse to the far-away blue
barrier of Cheyiot. Save for shepherd s
house or two, there is no dwelling OF
man between it and the crest of the
Iammermuirs. Lindean itself has al
most ceased TO rank among inhabited
houses. Once it had been a strong
fortalice, able to keep the border
thieves at bay. 1t had stood a siege, had
given title TO the ancient, but decayed
family that still held il. Now, it had
fallen to the estate Of shooting-box
occupied for a few months in the sport
ing season by tenants who knew moth
ing and cared nothing for its story
Everywhere about it were the signs Of
a neglected and unhonored age. The
very ivy had begun TO lose its hold on
the walls, and hung in hideous trailing
masses about the door and the windows
A few scrubby gooseberry bushes ant
weedy rose-trees alone survived tC
show where the orchard and the flower
plots had been. The outhouses wer,
unroofed, and the avenue of venerable
beeches and ashes was, like the mansion
more than half ruin. The great gall
of six years back had smitten 1T sore
The grandest trunks-trees as old a
the tower of Lindean itself-had beer
laid prone, and the roots still cum
bered the wood.
Barbara gazed down the dark visit
until the mist had swallowed the las
pale CLEAN of the dying day. The al
was still. Nothing came to her ear
except the pattcr of the falling leaf, an,
the strangled roar of the stream in tn
eleuch below. To her it sounded like tn
voice of silence and loneliness-th
dirge of the fortunes of Lindean. Sh
stepped across the threshold an
looked up at the escutcheon carve,
above the door. 1t was too dark t.
make out the familiar device of a ham
grasping the trunk of a tree, and III
motto: "Time alone overcomes me.
But through the dusk could plainly
deserted the fresh scars the last ten
ants of Lindean had made on tn
proud crest of the Blackadders. Out o
humor at their ill-luck on the moor
they had fred parting salute at tn
family arms. The eyes of the faithful
old servitor CLEANED angrily. No Black
adder would have done such a deed
Evil liyers they might have been-dare
devil, spendthrift, grasping. But a
least. they had always borne them
selves like gentlemen. The crude amuse
ments and vulgar talk of these new
rich young men who had come for
season 10 caroHse under the family
roof-tree and abuse the family gods
were enough TO make the old Black
adders turn in their graves in the aisl'
of the abbey church. Had Barbar;
been present she would have rescue,
from this last indignity the house il
which she had been born and had lives
for over GO years. even as she rescued tn,
great rusty Andrea Ferara that Vivian
BlaclSadder welded at Flodden whel
the little cockney sportsman took i
down from its place and tried to benz
It double on the stone flags of the hall
"The fnshionless body" she murmured
smiling grimly to herself, remember
ing the ease wherewith she ha,
wrenched the weapon from the grasp o
the astonished Nimrod.
She went indoors, and lighting hei
candle made her tour through the de
serted house ere retiring for the night
She climbed the spiral staircases anS
threaded the lowNaulted passages from
story to story and from room to room
The stone pavement underfoot wa
worn ard broken. The plaster huns
in fragments from the ceilings Thu
oak panelings and the old-fashioneS
furniture had Suffered sadly from tim
and nj usage. Thace were chamber