Read Online Ceremony of the Innocent by Taylor Caldwell - Free Book Online Page B

be permitted to eat the scraps from this banquet, and she was forced to repeated swallowings so that her mouth would not openly run. Francis saw the spasms in the white throat and he thought, with astonishment: Why, the poor child is hungry! Now he was filled with compassion, a compassion so strong that self-congratulating tears came into his eyes. She can’t be more than fourteen; that face is too immature. What a beauty she will be in a few years, if such beauty can be increased by maturity.
    Walter Porter was giving Ellen swift close glances, and when she offered him a dish he smiled at her kindly. “Did you come from Philadelphia, Ellen?” he asked, extraordinarily stirred by Ellen, who so resembled the portrait in the Widdimer house. Was it possible there was some connection somewhere, though it seemed improbable? Perhaps from the wrong side of the blanket, he added to himself, and smiled again.
    “No, sir,” the girl almost whispered, filling his coffee cup with extreme care, for her hands were shaking. “I was born in Erie. I’ve never been in Philadelphia.”
    “You have no relatives there, child?”
    “No, sir. None. Aunt May—my aunt—she was born in Erie, too, and was never in Philadelphia.”
    Now Francis spoke to her for the first time, and his breathlessness had returned. “Are your parents alive, Ellen?”
    Her hands empty now, Ellen stood stiff and tall, hiding those hands under the white apron. She glanced down into Francis’ candid eyes and saw there only a soft tenderness, which she could not interpret. She only knew that he was not hostile and she wanted to cry in gratitude. He was so good; he was the best person she had ever known. Who else cared about her parents, or wished to know about them? She swallowed nervously and forgot her hunger.
    “No, sir, my mama and papa are dead. Papa was from New York and Mama was from Erie. They both died when I was two years old. That’s what Auntie May tells me. She was Mama’s sister.” She had never spoken so freely to anyone before, and certainly not to a stranger. Her aunt was always warning her mysteriously not to speak to strangers and never to answer them, but there was no harm in it, was there? She was overcome by shyness again and her velvety color deepened and she both wanted to run and to remain in the presence of this man who looked at her with such unrestrained gentleness and interest, as if he saw her as others never saw her.
    Mr. Porter spoke then. “Have you ever heard the names of Sheldon and Widdimer, Ellen?”
    She shook her head. “No, sir, never.”
    “Unbelievable,” murmured Walter, shaking his head slightly.
    Ellen moved back a step, feeling helpless and confused again. Mrs. Jardin was watching from the door to the kitchen, her eyes rapidly blinking as they moved from face to face. Then she said bullyingly, “Ellen, bring the gentlemen fresh coffee, and the strawberry pie.”
    Ellen ran, not walked to the kitchen. Mrs. Jardin, who felt herself in a privileged position, spoke to Walter Porter. “Ellen will be all right, I think, when she’s trained. She’s still raw; her first day here, or anywhere in service, a big girl like that! She should have been in service four years ago, and learning her place and how to be useful. But things are changing and not for the better, sir. Law here won’t let a girl go into service until she’s fourteen, and that’s a scandal. Bringing up a useless lazy generation, ain’t we? Ellen ought to be in a factory.”
    Walter gave his son a quick glance but Francis was laying down his knife and fork and had begun to speak. “I think it is a scandal to send very young girls into a factory, Mrs. Jardin.” His light voice was precise and almost dogmatic. “Thank God that this Commonwealth is beginning to realize that and has enacted a few tentative laws in the proper direction. I belong to a Committee—”
    “May I trouble you for the rolls, Francis?” asked his father. “And save your