Heidi - Johanna Spyri (red scrolls of magic .txt) 📗

class="calibre2">“Because I have prayed for the same thing every day for weeks,

and yet God has not done what I asked.”

 

“You are wrong, Heidi; you must not think of Him like that. God

is a good father to us all, and knows better than we do what is

good for us. If we ask Him for something that is not good for

us, He does not give it, but something better still, if only we

will continue to pray earnestly and do not run away and lose our

trust in Him. God did not think what you have been praying for

was good for you just now; but be sure He heard you, for He can

hear and see every one at the same time, because He is a God and

not a human being like you and me. And because He thought it was

better for you not to have at once what you wanted, He said to

Himself: Yes, Heidi shall have what she asks for, but not until

the right time comes, so that she may be quite happy. If I do

what she wants now, and then one day she sees that it would have

been better for her not to have had her own way, she will cry and

say, ‘If only God had not given me what I asked for! it is not so

good as I expected!’ And while God is watching over you, and

looking to see if you will trust Him and go on praying to Him

every day, and turn to Him for everything you want, you run away

and leave off saying your prayers, and forget all about Him. And

when God no longer hears the voice of one He knew among those who

pray to Him, He lets that person go his own way, that he may

learn how foolish he is. And then this one gets into trouble, and

cries, ‘Save me, God, for there is none other to help me,’ and

God says, ‘Why did you go from Me; I could not help you when you

ran away.’ And you would not like to grieve God, would you Heidi,

when He only wants to be kind to you? So will you not go and ask

Him to forgive you, and continue to pray and to trust Him, for

you may be sure that He will make everything right and happy for

you, and then you will be glad and lighthearted again.”

 

Heidi had perfect confidence in the grandmother, and every word

she said sunk into her heart.

 

“I will go at once and ask God to forgive me, and I will never

forget Him again,” she replied repentantly.

 

“That is right, dear child,” and anxious to cheer her, added,

“Don’t be unhappy, for He will do everything you wish in good

time.”

 

And Heidi ran away and prayed that she might always remember

God, and that He would go on thinking about her.

 

The day came for grandmother’s departure—a sad one for Clara

and Heidi. But the grandmother was determined to make it as much

like a holiday as possible and not to let them mope, and she kept

them so lively and amused that they had no time to think about

their sorrow at her going until she really drove away. Then the

house seemed so silent and empty that Heidi and Clara did not

know what to do with themselves, and sat during the remainder of

the day like two lost children.

 

The next day, when the hour came for Clara and Heidi to be

together, the latter walked in with her book and proposed that

she should go on reading aloud every afternoon to Clara, if the

latter liked it. Clara agreed, and thought anyhow it would be

nice for that day, so Heidi began with her usual enthusiasm. But

the reading did not last long, for Heidi had hardly begun a tale

about a dying grandmother before she cried out, “O! then

grandmother is dead!” and burst into tears; for everything she

read was so real to her that she quite thought it was the

grandmother at home who had died, and she kept on exclaiming as

her sobs increased, “She is dead, and I shall never see her

again, and she never had one of the white rolls!”

 

Clara did all she could to explain to Heidi that the story was

about quite a different grandmother; but even when at last she

had been able to convince Heidi of this, the latter continued to

weep inconsolably, for now she had awakened to the thought that

perhaps the grandmother, and even the grandfather also, might

die while she was so far away, and that if she did not go home

for a long time she would find everything there all silent and

dead, and there she would be all alone, and would never be able

to see the dear ones she loved any more.

 

Fraulein Rottenmeier had meanwhile come into the room, and Clara

explained to her what had happened. As Heidi continued her

weeping, the lady, who was evidently getting impatient with her,

went up to Heidi and said with decision, “Now, Adelaide, that is

enough of all this causeless lamentation. I will tell you once

for all, if there are any more scenes like this while you are

reading, I shall take the book away from you and shall not let

you have it again.”

 

Her words had immediate effect on Heidi, who turned pale with

fear. The book was her one great treasure. She quickly dried her

tears and swallowed her sobs as best she could, so that no

further sound of them should be heard. The threat did its work,

for Heidi never cried aloud again whatever she might be reading,

but she had often to struggle hard to keep back her tears, so

that Clara would look at her and say,

 

“What faces you are making, Heidi, I never saw anything like

it!” But the faces made no noise and did not offend Fraulein

Rottenmeier, and Heidi, having overcome her fit of despairing

misery, would go quietly on for a while, and no one perceived

her sorrow. But she lost all her appetite, and looked so pale and

thin that Sebastian was quite unhappy when he looked at her, and

could not bear to see her refusing all the nice dishes he handed

her. He would whisper to her sometimes, in quite a kind,

fatherly manner, “Take a little; you don’t know how nice it is!

There, a good spoonful, now another.” But it was of no use, Heidi

hardly ate anything at all, and as soon as she laid her head down

at night the picture of home would rise before her eyes, and she

would weep, burying her face in the pillow that her crying might

not be heard.

 

And so many weeks passed away. Heidi did not know it is was

winter or summer, for the walls and windows she looked out upon

showed no change, and she never went beyond the house except on

rare occasions when Clara was well enough to drive out, and then

they only went a very little way, as Clara could not bear the

movement for long. So that on these occasions they generally

only saw more fine streets and large houses and crowds of people;

they seldom got anywhere beyond them, and grass and flowers, fir

trees and mountains, were still far away. Heidi’s longing for the

old familiar and beautiful things grew daily stronger, so that

now only to read a word that recalled them to her remembrance

brought her to the verge of tears, which with difficulty she

suppressed. So the autumn and winter passed, and again the sun

came shining down on the white walls of the opposite houses, and

Heidi would think to herself that now the time had come for Peter

to go out again with the goats, to where the golden flowers of

the cistus were glowing in the sunlight, and all the rocks around

turned to fire at sunset. Heidi would go and sit in a corner of

her lonely room and put her hands up to her eyes that she might

not see the sun shining on the opposite wall; and then she would

remain without moving, battling silently with her terrible

homesickness until Clara sent for her again.

 

CHAPTER XII. A GHOST IN THE HOUSE

 

For some days past Fraulein Rottenmeier had gone about rather

silently and as if lost in thought. As twilight fell, and she

passed from room to room, or along the long corridors, she was

seen to look cautiously behind her, and into the dark corners,

as if she thought some one was coming silently behind her and

might unexpectedly give her dress a pull. Nor would she now go

alone into some parts of the house. If she visited the upper

floor where the grand guest-chambers were, or had to go down into

the large mysterious council-chamber, where every footstep

echoed, and the old senators with their big white collars looked

down so solemnly and immovably from their frames, she regularly

called Tinette to accompany her, in case, as she said, there

might be something to carry up or down. Tinette on her side did

exactly the same; if she had business upstairs or down, she

called Sebastian to accompany her, and there was always something

he must help her with which she could not carry alone. More

curious still, Sebastian, also, if sent into one of the more

distant rooms, always called John to go with him in case he

should want his assistance in bringing what was required. And

John readily obeyed, although there was never anything to carry,

and either might well have gone alone; but he did not know how

soon he might want to ask Sebastian to do the same service for

him. And while these things were going on upstairs, the cook, who

had been in the house for years, would stand shaking her head

over her pots and kettles, and sighing, “That ever I should live

to know such a thing.”

 

For something very strange and mysterious was going on in Herr

Sesemann’s house. Every morning, when the servants went

downstairs, they found the front door wide open, although nobody

could be seen far or near to account for it. During the first

few days that this happened every room and corner was searched in

great alarm, to see if anything had been stolen, for the general

idea was that a thief had been hiding in the house and had gone

off in the night with the stolen goods; but not a thing in the

house had been touched, everything was safe in its place. The

door was doubly locked at night, and for further security the

wooden bar was fastened across it; but it was no good—next

morning the door again stood open. The servants in their fear

and excitement got up extra early, but not so early but what the

door had been opened before they got downstairs, although

everything and everybody around were still wrapped in slumber,

and the doors and windows of the adjoining houses all fast shut.

At last, after a great deal of persuasion from Fraulein

Rottenmeier, Sebastian and John plucked up courage and agreed to

sit up one night in the room next to the large council-chamber

and to watch and see what would happen. Fraulein Rottenmeier

looked up several weapons belonging to the master, and gave these

and a bottle of spirits to Sebastian, so that their courage might

not faint if it came to a fight.

 

On the appointed night the two sat down and began at once to

take some of the strengthening cordial, which at first made them