The day before my departure , visiting the spots which had been hallowed by the vision , I found that the spring had a frozen bosom , and nothing but the snow and a glare of winter sunshine on the hill of the rainbow . `` Let me hope , '' thought I , `` or my heart will be as icy as the fountain and the whole world as desolate as this snowy hill . '' Most of the day was spent in preparing for the journey , which was to commence at four o'clock the next morning . About an hour after supper , when all was in readiness , I descended from my chamber to the sitting-room to take leave of the old clergyman and his family with whom I had been an inmate . A gust of wind blew out my lamp as I passed through the entry . According to their invariable custom -- so pleasant a one when the fire blazes cheerfully -- the family were sitting in the parlor with no other light than what came from the hearth . As the good clergyman 's scanty stipend compelled him to use all sorts of economy , the foundation of his fires was always a large heap of tan , or ground bark , which would smoulder away from morning till night with a dull warmth and no flame . This evening the heap of tan was newly put on and surmounted with three sticks of red oak full of moisture , and a few pieces of dry pine that had not yet kindled . There was no light except the little that came sullenly from two half-burnt brands , without even glimmering on the andirons . But I knew the position of the old minister 's arm-chair , and also where his wife sat with her knitting-work , and how to avoid his two daughters -- one a stout country lass , and the other a consumptive girl . Groping through the gloom , I found my own place next to that of the son , a learned collegian who had come home to keep school in the village during the winter vacation . I noticed that there was less room than usual to-night between the collegian 's chair and mine . As people are always taciturn in the dark , not a word was said for some time after my entrance . Nothing broke the stillness but the regular click of the matron 's knitting-needles . At times the fire threw out a brief and dusky gleam which twinkled on the old man 's glasses and hovered doubtfully round our circle , but was far too faint to portray the individuals who composed it . Were we not like ghosts ? Dreamy as the scene was , might it not be a type of the mode in which departed people who had known and loved each other here would hold communion in eternity ? We were aware of each other 's presence , not by sight nor sound nor touch , but by an inward consciousness . Would it not be so among the dead ? The silence was interrupted by the consumptive daughter addressing a remark to some one in the circle whom she called Rachel .
Her tremulous and decayed accents were answered XXXXX a single word , but in a voice that made me start and bend toward the spot whence it had proceeded .
At after among as by from than through to without