I remembered I was lying in the oak closet, and I heard distinctly the gusty wind, and the driving of the snow; I heard also, the fir-bough repeat its teasing sound . . . . I resolved to silence it, if possible . . . . "I must stop it nevertheless!" I muttered, knocking my knuckles through the glass, and stretching my arm out to seize the importunate branch: instead of which, my fingers closed on the fingers of a little ice-cold hand! The intense horror of nightmare came over me; I tried to draw back my arm, but, the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice, sobbed, "Let me in! let me in!" As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window. Terror made me cruel; and, finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrist on the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes: still it wailed, "Let me in!" and maintained its tenacious gripe, almost maddening me with fear. what feelings are portrayed.