Books: Heidi

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Heidi had meanwhile reached her field of flowers, and as she
caught sight of it she uttered a cry of joy. The whole ground in
front of her was a mass of shimmering gold, where the cistus
flowers spread their yellow blossoms. Above them waved whole
bushes of the deep blue bell-flowers; while the fragrance that
arose from the whole sunlit expanse was as if the rarest balsam
had been flung over it. The scent, however, came from the small
brown flowers, the little round heads of which rose modestly
here and there among the yellow blossoms. Heidi stood and gazed
and drew in the delicious air. Suddenly she turned round and
reached Clara's side out of breath with running and excitement.
"Oh, you must come," she called out as soon as she came in sight,
"it is more beautiful than you can imagine, and perhaps this
evening it may not be so lovely. I believe I could carry you,
don't you think I could?" Clara looked at her and shook her head.
"Why, Heidi, what can you be thinking of! you are smaller than I
am. Oh, if only I could walk!"

Heidi looked round as if in search of something, some new idea
had evidently come into her head. Peter was sitting up above
looking down on the two children. He had been sitting and
staring before him in the same way for hours, as if he could not
make out what he saw. He had destroyed the chair so that the
friend might not be able to move anywhere and that her visit
might come to an end, and then a little while after she had
appeared right up here under his very nose with Heidi beside her.
He thought his eyes must deceive him, and yet there she was and
no mistake about it.

Heidi now looked up to where he was sitting and called out in a
peremptory voice, "Peter, come down here!"

"I don't wish to come," he called in reply.

"But you are to, you must; I cannot do it alone, and you must
come here and help me; make haste and come down," she called
again in an urgent voice.

"I shall do nothing of the kind," was the answer.

Heidi ran some way up the slope towards him, and then pausing
called again, her eyes ablaze with anger, "If you don't come at
once, Peter, I will do something to you that you won't like; I
mean what I say."

Peter felt an inward throe at these words, and a great fear
seized him. He had done something wicked which he wanted no one
to know about, and so far he had thought himself safe. But now
Heidi spoke exactly as if she knew everything, and whatever she
did know she would tell her grandfather, and there was no one he
feared so much as this latter person. Supposing he were to
suspect what had happened about the chair! Peter's anguish of
mind grew more acute. He stood up and went down to where Heidi
was awaiting him.

"I am coming and you won't do what you said."

Peter appeared now so submissive with fear that Heidi felt quite
sorry for him and answered assuringly, "No, no, of course not;
come along with me, there is nothing to be afraid of in what I
want you to do."

As soon as they got to Clara, Heidi gave her orders: Peter was
to take hold of her under the arms on one side and she on the
other, and together they were to lift her up. This first movement
was successfully carried through, but then came the difficulty.
As Clara could not even stand, how were they to support her and
get her along? Heidi was too small for her arm to serve Clara to
lean upon.

"You must put one arm well around my neck so, and put the other
through Peter's and lean firmly upon it, then we shall be able
to carry you."

Peter, however, had never given his arm to any one in his life.
Clara put hers in his, but he kept his own hanging down straight
beside him like a stick.

"That's not the way, Peter," said Heidi in an authoritative
voice. "You must put your arm out in the shape of a ring, and
Clara must put hers through it and lean her weight upon you, and
whatever you do, don't let your arm give way; like that. I am
sure we shall be able to manage."

Peter did as he was told, but still they did not get on very
well. Clara was not such a light weight, and the team did not
match very well in size; it was up one side and down the other,
so that the supports were rather wobbly.

Clara tried to use her own feet a little, but each time drew
them quickly back.

"Put your foot down firmly once," suggested Heidi, "I am sure it
will hurt you less after that."

"Do you think so?" said Clara hesitatingly, but she followed
Heidi's advice and ventured one firm step on the ground and then
another; she called out a little as she did it; then she lifted
her foot again and went on, "Oh, that was less painful already,"
she exclaimed joyfully.

"Try again," said Heidi encouragingly.

And Clara went on putting one foot out after another until all
at once she called out, "I can do it, Heidi! look! look! I can
make proper steps!" And Heidi cried out with even greater
delight, "Can you really make steps, can you really walk? really
walk by yourself? Oh, if only grandfather were here!" and she
continued gleefully to exclaim, "You can walk now, Clara, you can
walk!"

Clara still held on firmly to her supports, but with every step
she felt safer on her feet, as all three became aware, and Heidi
was beside herself with joy.

"Now we shall be able to come up here together every day, and go
just where we like; and you will be able all your life to walk
about as I do, and not have to be pushed in a chair, and you
will get quite strong and well. It is the greatest happiness we
could have had!"

And Clara heartily agreed, for she could think of no greater joy
in the world than to be strong and able to go about like other
people, and no longer to have to lie from day to day in her
invalid chair.

They had not far to go to reach the field of flowers, and could
already catch sight of the cistus flowers glowing gold in the
sun. As they came to the bushes of the blue bell flowers, with
sunny, inviting patches of warm ground between them, Clara said,
"Mightn't we sit down here for a while?"

This was just what Heidi enjoyed, and so the children sat down
in the midst of the flowers, Clara for the first time on the dry,
warm mountain grass, and she found it indescribably delightful.
Around her were the blue flowers softly waving to and fro, and
beyond the gleaming patches of the cistus flowers and the red
centaury, while the sweet scent of the brown blossoms and of the
fragrant prunella enveloped her as she sat. Everything was so
lovely! so lovely! And Heidi, who was beside her, thought she
had never seen it so perfectly beautiful up here before, and she
did not know herself why she felt so glad at heart that she
longed to shout for joy. Then she suddenly remembered that Clara
was cured; that was the crowning delight of all that made life so
delightful in the midst of all this surrounding beauty. Clara sat
silent, overcome with the enchantment of all that her eye rested
upon, and with the anticipation of all the happiness that was now
before her. There seemed hardly room in her heart for all her
joyful emotions, and these and the ecstasy aroused by the
sunlight and the scent of the flowers, held her dumb.

Peter also lay among the flowers without moving or speaking, for
he was fast asleep. The breeze came blowing softly and
caressingly from behind the sheltering rocks, and passed
whisperingly through the bushes overhead. Heidi got up now and
then to run about, for the flowers waving in the warm wind
seemed to smell sweeter and to grow more thickly whichever way
she went, and she felt she must sit down at each fresh spot to
enjoy the sight and scent. So the hours went by.

It was long past noon when a small troop of goats advanced
solemnly towards the plain of flowers. It was not a feeding
place of theirs, for they did not care to graze on flowers. They
looked like an embassy arriving, with Greenfinch as their leader.
They had evidently come in search of their companions who had
left them in the lurch, and who had, contrary to all custom,
remained away so long, for the goats could tell the time without
mistake. As soon as Greenfinch caught sight of the three missing
friends amid the flowers she set up an extra loud bleat,
whereupon all the others joined in a chorus of bleats, and the
whole company came trotting towards the children. Peter woke up,
rubbing his eyes, for he had been dreaming that he saw the chair
again with its beautiful red padding standing whole and uninjured
before the grandfather's door, and indeed just as he awoke he
thought he was looking at the brass-headed nails that studded it
all round, but it was only the bright yellow flowers beside him.
He experienced again a dreadful fear of mind that he had lost in
this dream of the uninjured chair. Even though Heidi had promised
not to do anything, there still remained the lively dread that
his deed might be found out in some other way. He allowed Heidi
to do what she liked with him, for he was reduced to such a state
of low spirits and meekness that he was ready to give his help to
Clara without murmur or resistance.

When all three had got back to their old quarters Heidi ran and
brought forward the bag, and proceeded to fulfil her promise,
for her threat of the morning had been concerned with Peter's
dinner. She had seen her grandfather putting in all sorts of good
things, and had been pleased to think of Peter having a large
share of them, and she had meant him to understand when he
refused at first to help her that he would get nothing for his
dinner, but Peter's conscience had put another interpretation
upon her words. Heidi took the food out of the bag and divided it
into three portions, and each was of such a goodly size that she
thought to herself, "There will be plenty of ours left for him to
have more still."

She gave the other two their dinners and sat down with her own
beside Clara, and they all three ate with a good appetite after
their great exertions.

It ended as Heidi had expected, and Peter got as much food again
as his own share with what Clara and Heidi had over from theirs
after they had both eaten as much as they wanted. Peter ate up
every bit of food to the last crumb, but there was something
wanting to his usual enjoyment of a good dinner, for every
mouthful he swallowed seemed to choke him, and he felt something
gnawing inside him.

They were so late at their dinner that they had not long to wait
after they had finished before grandfather came up to fetch them.
Heidi rushed forward to meet him as soon as he appeared, as she
wanted to be the first to tell him the good news. She was so
excited that she could hardly get her words out when she did get
up to him, but he soon understood, and a look of extreme pleasure
came into his face. He hastened up to where Clara was sitting and
said with a cheerful smile, "So we've made the effort, have we,
and won the day!"

Then he lifted her up, and putting his left arm behind her and
giving her his right to lean upon, made her walk a little way,
which she did with less trembling and hesitation than before now
that she had such a strong arm round her.

Heidi skipped along beside her in triumphant glee, and the
grandfather looked too as if some happiness had befallen him.
But now he took Clara up in his arms. "We must not overdo it,"
he said, "and it is high time we went home," and he started off
down the mountain path, for he was anxious to get her indoors
that she might rest after her unusual fatigue.

When Peter got to Dorfli that evening he found a large group of
people collected round a certain spot, pushing one another and
looking over each other's shoulders in their eagerness to catch
sight of something lying on the ground. Peter thought he should
like to see too, and poked and elbowed till he made his way
through.

There it lay, the thing he had wanted to see. Scattered about
the grass were the remains of Clara's chair; part of the back and
the middle bit, and enough of the red padding and the bright
nails to show how magnificent the chair had been when it was
entire.

"I was here when the men passed carrying it up," said the baker
who was standing near Peter. "I'll bet any one that it was worth
twenty-five pounds at least. I cannot think how such an accident
could have happened."

"Uncle said the wind might perhaps have done it," remarked one
of the women, who could not sufficiently admire the red
upholstery.

"It's a good job that no one but the wind did it," said the
baker again, "or he might smart for it! No doubt the gentleman in
Frankfurt when he hears what has happened will make all
inquiries about it. I am glad for myself that I have not been
seen up the mountain for a good two years, as suspicion is likely
to fall on any one who was about up there at the time."

Many more opinions were passed on the matter, but Peter had
heard enough. He crept quietly away out of the crowd and then
took to his heels and ran up home as fast as he could, as if he
thought some one was after him. The baker's words had filled him
with fear and trembling. He was sure now that any day a constable
might come over from Frankfurt and inquire about the destruction
of the chair, and then everything would come out, and he would
be seized and carried off to Frankfurt and there put in prison.
The whole picture of what was coming was clear before him, and
his hair stood on end with terror.

He reached home in this disturbed state of mind. He would not
open his mouth in reply to anything that was said to him; he
would not eat his potatoes; all he did was to creep off to bed
as quickly as possible and hide under the bedclothes and groan.

"Peter has been eating sorrel again, and is evidently in pain by
the way he is groaning," said Brigitta.

"You must give him a little more bread to take with him; give
him a bit of mine to-morrow," said the grandmother sympathisingly.

As the children lay that night in bed looking out at the stars
Heidi said, "I have been thinking all day what a happy thing it
is that God does not give us what we ask for, even when we pray
and pray and pray, if He knows there is something better for us;
have you felt like that?"

"Why do you ask me that to-night all of a sudden?" asked Clara.

"Because I prayed so hard when I was in Frankfurt that I might
go home at once, and because I was not allowed to I thought God
had forgotten me. And now you see, if I had come away at first
when I wanted to, you would never have come here, and would never
have got well."

Clara had in her turn become thoughtful. "But, Heidi," she began
again, "in that case we ought never to pray for anything, as God
always intends something better for us than we know or wish
for."

"You must not think it is like that, Clara," replied Heidi
eagerly. "We must go on praying for everything, for everything,
so that God may know we do not forget that it all comes from
Him. If we forget God, then He lets us go our own way and we get
into trouble; grandmamma told me so. And if He does not give us
what we ask for we must not think that He has not heard us and
leave off praying, but we must still pray and say, I am sure,
dear God, that Thou art keeping something better for me, and I
will not be unhappy, for I know that Thou wilt make everything
right in the end."

"How did you learn all that?" asked Clara.

"Grandmamma explained it to me first of all, and then when it
all happened just as she said, I knew it myself, and I think,
Clara," she went on, as she sat up in bed, "we ought certainly to
thank God to-night that you can walk now, and that He has made us
so happy."

"Yes, Heidi, I am sure you are right, and I am glad you reminded
me; I almost forgot my prayers for very joy."

Both children said their prayers, and each thanked God in her
own way for the blessing He had bestowed on Clara, who had for so
long lain weak and ill.

The next morning the grandfather suggested that they should now
write to the grandmamma and ask her if she would not come and
pay them a visit, as they had something new to show her. But the
children had another plan in their heads, for they wanted to
prepare a great surprise for grandmamma. Clara was first to have
more practice in walking so that she might be able to go a
little way by herself; above all things grandmamma was not to
have a hint of it. They asked the grandfather how long he thought
this would take, and when he told them about a week or less, they
immediately sat down and wrote a pressing invitation to
grandmamma, asking her to come soon, but no word was said about
there being anything new to see.

The following days were some of the most joyous that Clara had
spent on the mountain. She awoke each morning with a happy voice
within her crying, "I am well now! I am well now! I shan't have
to go about in a chair, I can walk by myself like other people."

Then came the walking, and every day she found it easier and was
able to go a longer distance. The movement gave her such an
appetite that the grandfather cut his bread and butter a little
thicker each day, and was well pleased to see it disappear. He
now brought out with it a large jugful of the foaming milk and
filled her little bowl over and over again. And so another week
went by and the day came which was to bring grandmamma up the
mountain for her second visit.

CHAPTER XXIII. "GOOD-BYE TILL WE MEET AGAIN"

Grandmamma wrote the day before her arrival to let the children
know that they might expect her without fail. Peter brought up
the letter early the following morning. Grandfather and the
children were already outside and the goats were awaiting him,
shaking their heads frolicsomely in the fresh morning air, while
the children stroked them and wished them a pleasant journey up
the mountain. Uncle stood near, looking now at the fresh faces
of the children, now at his well-kept goats, with a smile on his
face, evidently well pleased with the sight of both.

As Peter neared the group his steps slackened, and the instant
he had handed the letter to Uncle he turned quickly away as if
frightened, and as he went he gave a hasty glance behind him, as
if the thing he feared was pursuing him, and then he gave a leap
and ran off up the mountain.

"Grandfather," said Heidi, who had been watching him with
astonished eyes, "why does Peter always behave now like the
Great Turk when he thinks somebody is after him with a stick; he
turns and shakes his head and goes off with a bound just like
that?"

"Perhaps Peter fancies he sees the stick which he so well
deserves coming after him," answered grandfather.

Peter ran up the first slope without a pause; when he was well
out of sight, however, he stood still and looked suspiciously
about him. Suddenly he gave a jump and looked behind him with a
terrified expression, as if some one had caught hold of him by
the nape of the neck; for Peter expected every minute that the
police-constable from Frankfurt would leap out upon him from
behind some bush or hedge. The longer his suspense lasted, the
more frightened and miserable he became; he did not know a
moment's peace.

Heidi now set about tidying the hut, as grandmamma must find
everything clean and in good order when she arrived.

Clara looked on amused and interested to watch the busy Heidi at
her work.

So the morning soon went by, and grandmamma might now be
expected at any minute. The children dressed themselves and went
and sat together outside on the seat ready to receive her.

Grandfather joined them, that they might see the splendid bunch
of blue gentians which he had been up the mountain to gather,
and the children exclaimed with delight at the beauty of the
flowers as they shone in the morning sun. The grandfather then
carried them indoors. Heidi jumped up from time to time to see if
there was any sign of grandmamma's approach.

At last she saw the procession winding up the mountain just in
the order she had expected. First there was the guide, then the
white horse with grandmamma mounted upon it, and last of all the
porter with a heavy bundle on his back, for grandmamma would not
think of going up the mountain without a full supply of wraps
and rugs.

Nearer and nearer wound the procession; at last it reached the
top and grandmamma was there looking down on the children from
her horse. She no sooner saw them, however, sitting side by
side, than she began quickly dismounting, as she cried out in a
shocked tone of voice, "Why is this? why are you not lying in
your chair, Clara? What are you all thinking about?" But even
before she had got close to them she threw up her hands in
astonishment, exclaiming further, "Is it really you, dear child?
Why, your cheeks have grown quite round and rosy! I should hardly
have known you again!" And she was hastening forward to embrace
her, when Heidi slipped down from the seat, and Clara leaning on
her shoulder, the two children began walking along quite coolly
and naturally. Then indeed grandmamma was surprised, or rather
alarmed, for she thought at first that it must be some unheard-
of proceeding of Heidi's devising.

But no--Clara was actually walking steadily and uprightly beside
Heidi--and now the two children turned and came towards her with
beaming faces and rosy cheeks. Laughing and crying she ran to
them and embraced first Clara and then Heidi, and then Clara
again, unable to speak for joy. All at once she caught sight of
Uncle standing by the seat and looking on smiling at the
meeting. She took Clara's arm in hers, and with continual
expressions of delight at the fact that the child could now
really walk about with her, she went up to the old man, and then
letting go Clara's arm she seized his hands.

"My dear Uncle! my dear Uncle! how much we have to thank you
for! It is all your doing! it is your caring and nursing----"

"And God's good sun and mountain air," he interrupted her,
smiling.

"Yes, and don't forget the beautiful milk I have," put in Clara.
"Grandmamma, you can't think what a quantity of goat's milk I
drink, and how nice it is!"

"I can see that by your cheeks, child," answered grandmamma. "I
really should not have known you; you have grown quite strong
and plump, and taller too; I never hoped or expected to see you
look like that. I cannot take my eyes off you, for I can hardly
yet believe it. But now I must telegraph without delay to my son
in Paris, and tell him he must come here at once. I shall not say
why; it will be the greatest happiness he has ever known. My
dear Uncle, how can I send a telegram; have you dismissed the men
yet?"

"They have gone," he answered, "but if you are in a hurry I will
fetch Peter, and he can take it for you."

Grandmamma thanked him, for she was anxious that the good news
should not be kept from her son a day longer than was possible.

So Uncle went aside a little way and blew such a resounding
whistle through his fingers that he awoke a responsive echo
among the rocks far overhead. He had not to wait many minutes
before Peter came running down in answer, for he knew the sound
of Uncle's whistle. Peter arrived, looking as white as a ghost,
for he quite thought Uncle was sending for him to give him up.
But as it was he only had a written paper given him with
instructions to take it down at once to the post-office at
Dorfli; Uncle would settle for the payment later, as it was not
safe to give Peter too much to look after.

Peter went off with the paper in his hand, feeling some relief
of mind for the present, for as Uncle had not whistled for him in
order to give him up it was evident that no policeman had yet
arrived.

So now they could all sit down in peace to their dinner round
the table in front of the hut, and grandmamma was given a
detailed account of all that had taken place. How grandfather had
made Clara try first to stand and then to move her feet a little
every day, and how they had settled for the day's excursion up
the mountain and the chair had been blown away. How Clara's
desire to see the flowers had induced her to take the first walk,
and so by degrees one thing had led to another. The recital took
some time, for grandmamma continually interrupted it with fresh
exclamations of surprise and thankfulness: "It hardly seems
possible! I can scarcely believe it is not all a dream! Are we
really awake, and are all sitting here by the mountain hut, and
is that round-faced, healthy-looking child my poor little, white,
sickly Clara?"

And Clara and Heidi could not get over their delight at the
success of the surprise they had so carefully arranged for
grandmamma and at the latter's continued astonishment.

Meanwhile Herr Sesemann, who had finished his business in Paris,
had also been preparing a surprise. Without saying a word to his
mother he got into the train one sunny morning and travelled
that day to Basle; the next morning he continued his journey, for
a great longing had seized him to see his little daughter from
whom he had been separated the whole summer. He arrived at Ragatz
a few hours after his mother had left. When he heard that she had
that very day started for the mountain, he immediately hired a
carriage and drove off to Mayenfeld; here he found that he could
if he liked drive on as far as Dorfli, which he did, as he
thought the walk up from that place would be as long as he cared
for.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20