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Literary
July 13, 1911
Daily Independent
Elko, Elko County, Nevada
What is this article about?
At a mountain hotel, Graham Elliot, who resembles Hilda's lost love depicted in a photo, meets her through a child's introduction. They reunite at a tea, confess past misunderstandings about love and domesticity, and embrace renewed affection, inspired by the child's innocence.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
Hilda's Resurrected Angel
"You look just like Hilda's angel, but don't you tell her I said so." warned the child as she scrutinized the new guest at St. Francis' Hotel in the Cumberlands. "She lives over yonder."
Graham Elliot turned and looked in the direction indicated by the child and saw a small stone lodge. Vines whose leaves were beginning to color early as they do in the mountains clambered over the railing on the porch. A collie sat upright on the top step in the sunshine.
Elliot put his hand over his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Muffled as it was, the collie heard and sprang erect barking, looking eagerly along the road. The door of the lodge opened and a woman appeared.
"Hold me up quick so Hilda can see!"
Elliot picked the child up and held her so that his own face was shielded.
"She didn't even see me." said the child wistfully as the lodge door closed. "She never looked over here."
"And what is Hilda's angel, little girl?"
"You look like him." said Dorothy. "Don't call me little girl. I'm Dorothy Fairfax Fielding. We're spending the summer here 'cause mother has the hay fever."
"Well, Dorothy Fairfax Fielding, you haven't told me about the angel."
"You look an awful lot like him. Hilda keeps his picture on her desk with some flowers in a little bowl right before it all the time. He looks as if he's smiling at you over the flowers."
"What is Hilda's other name?"
"Just Hilda, Mr. McReynolds says the name just suits her. He is the man who writes books and loves Hilda"
"Let's go see Hilda Maybe you'll love her too."
"No, thank you, Dorothy. I had a good angel once and I loved her and lost her so I don't want to love any more."
"Mother," called the child, suddenly spying a graceful figure in the doorway, "come here! Isn't he like Hilda's angel?"
Laughingly, Mrs. Fielding approached and assisted by the new comer himself, Dorothy proceeded to introduce them
"Hilda is the one passion of my small daughter's heart, so if you would keep in her good graces, you must at least pretend to be a devotee at the shrine of wisdom and beauty on the mountain."
"You must meet our goddess, at any rate, Mr. Elliot. She is a rare woman, one in a thousand, and that is saying a great deal, considering that I'm a woman, too. She is giving a tea this afternoon at 4 I'll see that you are asked."
"Come on and go with me down the mountain, Mr. Elliot," begged Dorothy "I gather fresh flowers for Hilda's angel every day."
The tea was a great success All the hotel guests were there and the hostess, in her soft gray gown, moved among her guests dispensing hospitality with a grace and charm that added fresh laurels to her social brow
When the last guest had gone, Hilda sat down in a great arm chair before the blazing hickory logs There was a familiar tap and then Dorothy opened the door
"I've brought company, Hilda."
"Doesn't he look like your angel? Here are the flowers for your picture. We went after them early this afternoon, but we got lost, really, truly lost Hilda"
The man's hand met hers in a firm warm clasp that sent the blood to her throat and brow. She felt that she could not speak; something was choking her
"I want to see your angel, please Dorothy says we are very much alike"
Silent, she led him to the little desk, took the flowers from the bowl and replaced them with Dorothy's fresh mountain blossoms.
"There is a striking resemblance." she said smiling a little as she turned the picture so that he might see the face in the glow of the fire,
"Hilda, can it be true? Is it possible? And they say you are writing stories for children! For children, Hilda! Is it true?" Awakened love, possible love, had set his blood afire.
"It's all true." she answered quietly
"But you left me because you said you were not a domestic woman, that you didn't want a home life and—"
"I didn't know." she interposed quickly, "I wanted you to be an artist, to write poetry, to rave over pink sunsets and lonely pine trees I didn't know. Oh, I didn't know."
"And who taught you?"
"Dorothy." she said broken " 'Tis an old story of a little child leading them."
He held out strong, inviting arms and she walked straight into the shelter of them
"You look just like Hilda's angel, but don't you tell her I said so." warned the child as she scrutinized the new guest at St. Francis' Hotel in the Cumberlands. "She lives over yonder."
Graham Elliot turned and looked in the direction indicated by the child and saw a small stone lodge. Vines whose leaves were beginning to color early as they do in the mountains clambered over the railing on the porch. A collie sat upright on the top step in the sunshine.
Elliot put his hand over his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Muffled as it was, the collie heard and sprang erect barking, looking eagerly along the road. The door of the lodge opened and a woman appeared.
"Hold me up quick so Hilda can see!"
Elliot picked the child up and held her so that his own face was shielded.
"She didn't even see me." said the child wistfully as the lodge door closed. "She never looked over here."
"And what is Hilda's angel, little girl?"
"You look like him." said Dorothy. "Don't call me little girl. I'm Dorothy Fairfax Fielding. We're spending the summer here 'cause mother has the hay fever."
"Well, Dorothy Fairfax Fielding, you haven't told me about the angel."
"You look an awful lot like him. Hilda keeps his picture on her desk with some flowers in a little bowl right before it all the time. He looks as if he's smiling at you over the flowers."
"What is Hilda's other name?"
"Just Hilda, Mr. McReynolds says the name just suits her. He is the man who writes books and loves Hilda"
"Let's go see Hilda Maybe you'll love her too."
"No, thank you, Dorothy. I had a good angel once and I loved her and lost her so I don't want to love any more."
"Mother," called the child, suddenly spying a graceful figure in the doorway, "come here! Isn't he like Hilda's angel?"
Laughingly, Mrs. Fielding approached and assisted by the new comer himself, Dorothy proceeded to introduce them
"Hilda is the one passion of my small daughter's heart, so if you would keep in her good graces, you must at least pretend to be a devotee at the shrine of wisdom and beauty on the mountain."
"You must meet our goddess, at any rate, Mr. Elliot. She is a rare woman, one in a thousand, and that is saying a great deal, considering that I'm a woman, too. She is giving a tea this afternoon at 4 I'll see that you are asked."
"Come on and go with me down the mountain, Mr. Elliot," begged Dorothy "I gather fresh flowers for Hilda's angel every day."
The tea was a great success All the hotel guests were there and the hostess, in her soft gray gown, moved among her guests dispensing hospitality with a grace and charm that added fresh laurels to her social brow
When the last guest had gone, Hilda sat down in a great arm chair before the blazing hickory logs There was a familiar tap and then Dorothy opened the door
"I've brought company, Hilda."
"Doesn't he look like your angel? Here are the flowers for your picture. We went after them early this afternoon, but we got lost, really, truly lost Hilda"
The man's hand met hers in a firm warm clasp that sent the blood to her throat and brow. She felt that she could not speak; something was choking her
"I want to see your angel, please Dorothy says we are very much alike"
Silent, she led him to the little desk, took the flowers from the bowl and replaced them with Dorothy's fresh mountain blossoms.
"There is a striking resemblance." she said smiling a little as she turned the picture so that he might see the face in the glow of the fire,
"Hilda, can it be true? Is it possible? And they say you are writing stories for children! For children, Hilda! Is it true?" Awakened love, possible love, had set his blood afire.
"It's all true." she answered quietly
"But you left me because you said you were not a domestic woman, that you didn't want a home life and—"
"I didn't know." she interposed quickly, "I wanted you to be an artist, to write poetry, to rave over pink sunsets and lonely pine trees I didn't know. Oh, I didn't know."
"And who taught you?"
"Dorothy." she said broken " 'Tis an old story of a little child leading them."
He held out strong, inviting arms and she walked straight into the shelter of them
What sub-type of article is it?
Prose Fiction
What themes does it cover?
Love Romance
What keywords are associated?
Resurrected Angel
Reunion
Lost Love
Mountain Lodge
Childs Innocence
Domesticity
Literary Details
Title
Hilda's Resurrected Angel
Key Lines
"I Didn't Know." She Interposed Quickly, "I Wanted You To Be An Artist, To Write Poetry, To Rave Over Pink Sunsets And Lonely Pine Trees I Didn't Know. Oh, I Didn't Know."
"Dorothy." She Said Broken " 'Tis An Old Story Of A Little Child Leading Them."
He Held Out Strong, Inviting Arms And She Walked Straight Into The Shelter Of Them