"But Elizabeth Parris knew nothing of all this! To her you are only—"
Abby broke off, for she felt that the truths she was about to speak were cruel.
"I am only old Tituba to her, but she is all the world to me."
"And yet you hate her father—her stern, kind-hearted father, for that the minister is."
"He was your mother's judge before he became her father!"
"And she is the grandchild of Anna Hutchinson, equally with myself!" said Abigail, musing.
"But not the child of King Philip. Not the sister of the last chief of the Wampanoags, who now wanders like a wild beast through the lands his people once owned. She, my golden-haired child, is not the one who must avenge her grandmother's wrongs. From the beginning, she and her mother were like singing birds to be fed and cared for. You and your mother were eagles, with strength to swoop on their enemies and your own. Elizabeth must never know the events that are making your face so dark."
"But why, why is the sunshine all for her, the darkness for me?" answered Abigail, with sorrowful bitterness.
The old woman began to weave her hands together, and rock to and fro with a troubled look.
"The eagle soars; the mocking-bird sings. One seeks her nest in the leaves, the other sits on the crags."