and overturning a few old women in my fits of absence, I found myself
precisely at the point from which I set out, viz. at the door of Julia's
aunt's husband's house.

I paused for a moment, uncertain whether to enter, and, in the meantime,
turning my eyes to the window, where, upon the white blind, I beheld the
enormous shadow of a human being. My flesh crept with horror on witnessing
this apparition, for I knew it to be the shadow of the Man-Mountain--the
dim reflection of Mr. Tims. No other human being could cast such a shade.
Its proportions were magnificent, and filled up the whole breadth of the
window-screen; nay, the shoulders shot away latterly beyond its utmost
limits, and were lost in space, having apparently nothing whereon to cast
their mighty image. On beholding this vast shade, my mind was filled with
a thousand exalted thoughts.

I paused at the door for sometime, uncertain whether to enter; at last my
mind was made up, and I knocked, resolved to encounter the Man-Mountain a
second time, and, if possible, recover the lost glances of Julia. On
entering the dining-room, I found an accession to the company in the
person of our landlord, who sat opposite to Mr. Tims, listening to some
facetious story, which the latter gentleman seemed in the act of relating.
He had come home during my absence, and, like his wife and her niece,
appeared to be fascinated by the eloquence and humour of his stout friend.
At least, so I judged, for he merely recognised my presence by a slight
bow, and devoted the whole of his attention to the owner of the mighty
shadow. Julia and her aunt were similarly occupied, and I was more
neglected than ever.

Perhaps the reader may think that there was something ludicrous in the
idea of such a man being in love. Not at all--the notion was sublime;