Elizabeth Parris was looking out of her bedroom window and marvelled at the strange apparition of her father's guest on a horse which she had never seen before; but Tituba passed the threshold of her room that moment, and she turned to answer some question that the old woman asked. While she was so occupied Barbara descended from her horse. Scarcely had her foot touched the ground when the creature heard a shrill whistle from Wahpee and bounded off to the woods. When Elizabeth looked out of the window a few moments after, Barbara Stafford was walking slowly toward the house, but there was no sign of the white horse; at which the young girl drew her breath painfully, and sunk to a chair shocked with an awful dread. "Tituba! Tituba!" The old woman, who was half-way down-stairs, came back again, alarmed by that sharp cry. "Tituba, you told me that Mistress Barbara Stafford was ill and wished to be left alone." "So she is," answered the old woman, entering the room and closing the door after her. "But I saw her just now." "Saw her, Miss Lizzybeth!" answered the Indian, listening keenly to a rustling sound that came from the stairs. "Saw her! why everybody is asleep in the house. What did you get up for, child?" "Oh, Tituba, I am so restless! There is something strange, terrible, going on in this house. What is the matter with Abby? What keeps this woman here when nobody wants her? Is she truly ill? When did you see her last?" "This very morning," asserted Tituba, who had in truth seen Barbara near the door, and now heard her moving in the back room. Elizabeth leaned her head on one hand as if some distressing thought pained her. "Strange! strange!" she muttered. "Do you want me any longer?" asked the Indian still listening keenly. "No. Yes, Tituba, don't go down yet. Where is Abby?" "In bed and sound asleep." "How can she sleep away from me? Oh, Tituba! Tituba! I am so lonesome." Tituba went close to her young mistress, and kneeling down received that drooping head on her shoulder. "Come close, Tituba. Oh, how I want my mother now!" This cry of nature touched old Tituba's heart, but she had no words. Elizabeth lifted her face and searched those withered features with her beautiful eyes. "Tituba, just as sure as I live, Barbara Stafford sat out yonder on a white horse only a little while ago. The horse vanished. Then I saw her on foot near the door," she said wildly. "What does it mean? What can it mean?" The old woman made vague efforts to caress the girl, but said nothing. At last Elizabeth sprang to her feet. "Are you speaking truth, Tituba?" she exclaimed, "or am I bewitched?" The last words of this sentence were uttered in a whisper: even the word witchcraft was full of awe to that young heart. Then, struck with a sudden resolution, she flung the door open. "I will see for myself! I will see for myself!"