John,
I stand here before you now, and I do something utterly unlike me- I plead.
I am on m knees. I pray that you will look upon me with the same softness that I know I saw in you before.
I am no longer a child. You look on me as if I were some silly thing and call me this! How I shudder to think of it.
What kind of child could serve you the way I did? Indeed, even what sort of woman?
Your dear Elizabeth is less than dust. She is nothing more than an insect that crawls about the town, spreading a disease of lies. I hear what she says of me. Will you let this continue? Will you allow her to say these things about sweet Abigail, who made your bed and swept your floor, did all the things that a little girl should do and more to make you happy? Oh, it is a cold wife you keep indeed.
Can you deny it, John? All that's passed between us? If you are able, I see a soul in dire need of searching a soul with want for God.
I may even see a witch.
Most Lovingly,
Abigail
