When Northmour took his degree and I decided to leave the
university without one, he invited me on a long visit to Graden
Easter; and it was thus that I first became acquainted with the
scene of my adventures. The mansion-house of Graden stood in a
bleak stretch of country some three miles from the shore of the
German Ocean. It was as large as a barrack; and as it had been
built of a soft stone, liable to consume in the eager air of the
seaside, it was damp and draughty within and half ruinous without.
It was impossible for two young men to lodge with comfort in such a
dwelling. But there stood in the northern part of the estate, in a
wilderness of links and blowing sand-hills, and between a
plantation and the sea, a small Pavilion or Belvidere, of modern
design, which was exactly suited to our wants; and in this
hermitage, speaking little, reading much, and rarely associating
except at meals, Northmour and I spent four tempestuous winter
months. I might have stayed longer; but one March night there
sprang up between us a dispute, which rendered my departure
necessary. Northmour spoke hotly, I remember, and I suppose I must
have made some tart rejoinder. He leaped from his chair and
grappled me; I had to fight, without exaggeration, for my life; and
it was only with a great effort that I mastered him, for he was
near as strong in body as myself, and seemed filled with the devil.
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