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

class="calibre2">so trustfully as usual, but seemed to avoid him timidly, for

Peter had reached a high pitch of anger and bitterness, and was

laying about him with his stick very unnecessarily, and where it

fell the blow was no light one. For weeks now he had not had

Heidi all to himself as formerly. When he came up in the morning

the invalid child was always already in her chair and Heidi fully

occupied with her. And it was the same thing over again when he

came down in the evening. She had not come out with the goats

once this summer, and now to-day she was only coming in company

with her friend and the chair, and would stick by the latter’s

side the whole time. It was the thought of this which was making

him particularly cross this morning. There stood the chair on its

high wheels; Peter seemed to see something proud and disdainful

about it, and he glared at it as at an enemy that had done him

harm and was likely to do him more still to-day. He glanced round-

-there was no sound anywhere, no one to see him. He sprang

forward like a wild creature, caught hold of it, and gave it a

violent and angry push in the direction of the slope. The chair

rolled swiftly forward and in another minute had disappeared.

 

Peter now sped up the mountain as if on wings, not pausing till

he was well in shelter of a large blackberry bush, for he had no

wish to be seen by Uncle. But he was anxious to see what had

become of the chair, and his bush was well placed for that.

Himself hidden, he could watch what happened below and see what

Uncle did without being discovered himself. So he looked, and

there he saw his enemy running faster and faster down hill, then

it turned head over heels several times, and finally, after one

great bound, rolled over and over to its complete destruction.

The pieces flew in every direction—feet, arms, and torn

fragments of the padded seat and bolster—and Peter experienced a

feeling of such unbounded delight at the sight that he leapt in

the air, laughing aloud and stamping for joy; then he took a run

round, jumping over bushes on the way, only to return to the same

spot and fall into fresh fits of laughter. He was beside himself

with satisfaction, for he could see only good results for himself

in this disaster to his enemy. Now Heidi’s friend would be

obliged to go away, for she would have no means of going about,

and when Heidi was alone again she would come out with him as in

the old days, and everything would go on in the proper way again.

But Peter did not consider, or did not know, that when we do a

wrong thing trouble is sure to follow.

 

Heidi now came running out of the hut and round to the shed.

Grandfather was behind with Clara in his arms. The shed stood

wide open, the two loose planks having been taken down, and it

was quite light inside. Heidi looked into every corner and ran

from one end to the other, and then stood still wondering what

could have happened to the chair. Grandfather now came up.

 

“How is this, have you wheeled the chair away, Heidi?”

 

“I have been looking everywhere for it, grandfather; you said it

was standing ready outside,” and she again searched each corner

of the shed with her eyes.

 

At that moment the wind, which had risen suddenly, blew open the

shed door and sent it banging back against the wall.

 

“It must have been the wind, grandfather,” exclaimed Heidi, and

her eyes grew anxious at this sudden discovery. “Oh! if it has

blown the chair all the way down to Dorfli we shall not get it

back in time, and shall not be able to go.”

 

“If it has rolled as far as that it will never come back, for it

is in a hundred pieces by now,” said the grandfather, going

round the corner and looking down. “But it’s a curious thing to

have happened!” he added as he thought over the matter, for the

chair would have had to turn a corner before starting down hill.

 

“Oh, I am sorry,” lamented Clara, “for we shall not be able to

go to-day, or perhaps any other day. I shall have to go home, I

suppose, if I have no chair. Oh, I am so sorry, I am so sorry!”

 

But Heidi looked towards her grandfather with her usual

expression of confidence.

 

“Grandfather, you will be able to do something, won’t you, so

that it need not be as Clara says, and so that she is not

obliged to go home?”

 

“Well, for the present we will go up the mountain as we had

arranged, and then later on we will see what can be done,” he

answered, much to the children’s delight.

 

He went indoors, fetched out a pile of shawls, and laying them

on the sunniest spot he could find set Clara down upon them. Then

he fetched the children’s morning milk and had out his two goats.

 

“Why is Peter not here yet?” thought Uncle to himself, for

Peter’s whistle had not been sounded that morning. The

grandfather now took Clara up on one arm, and the shawls on the

other.

 

“Now then we will start,” he said; “the goats can come with us.”

 

Heidi was pleased at this and walked on after her grandfather

with an arm over either of the goats’ necks, and the animals were

so overjoyed to have her again that they nearly squeezed her flat

between them out of sheer affection. When they reached the spot

where the goats usually pastured they were surprised to find them

already feeding there, climbing about the rocks, and Peter with

them, lying his full length on the ground.

 

“I’ll teach you another time to go by like that, you lazy

rascal! What do you mean by it?” Uncle called to him.

 

Peter, recognising the voice, jumped up like a shot. “No one was

up,” he answered.

 

“Have you seen anything of the chair?” asked the grandfather.

 

“Of what chair?” called Peter back in answer in a morose tone of

voice.

 

Uncle said no more. He spread the shawls on the sunny slope, and

setting Clara upon them asked if she was comfortable.

 

“As comfortable as in my chair,” she said, thanking him, “and

this seems the most beautiful spot. O Heidi, it is lovely, it is

lovely!” she cried, looking round her with delight.

 

The grandfather prepared to leave them. They would now be safe

and happy together, he said, and when it was time for dinner

Heidi was to go and fetch the bag from the shady hollow where he

had put it; Peter was to bring them as much milk as they wanted,

but Heidi was to see that it was Little Swan’s milk. He would

come and fetch them towards evening; he must now be off to see

after the chair and ascertain what had become of it.

 

The sky was dark blue, and not a single cloud was to be seen

from one horizon to the other. The great snowfield overhead

sparkled as if set with thousands and thousands of gold and

silver stars. The two grey mountains peaks lifted their lofty

heads against the sky and looked solemnly down upon the valley as

of old; the great bird was poised aloft in the clear blue air,

and the mountain wind came over the heights and blew refreshingly

around the children as they sat on the sunlit slope. It was all

indescribably enjoyable to Clara and Heidi. Now and again a

young goat came and lay down beside them; Snowflake came

oftenest, putting her little head down near Heidi, and only

moving because another goat came and drove her away. Clara had

learned to know them all so well that she never mistook one for

the other now, for each had an expression and ways of its own.

And the goats had also grown familiar with Clara and would rub

their heads against her shoulder, which was always a sign of

acquaintanceship and goodwill.

 

Some hours went by, and Heidi began to think that she might just

go over to the spot where all the flowers grew to see if they

were fully blown and looking as lovely as the year before. Clara

could not go until grandfather came back that evening, when the

flowers probably would be already closed. The longing to go

became stronger and stronger, till she felt she could not resist

it.

 

“Would you think me unkind, Clara,” she said rather

hesitatingly, “if I left you for a few minutes? I should run

there and back very quickly. I want so to see how the flowers are

looking—but wait—” for an idea had come into Heidi’s head. She

ran and picked a bunch or two of green leaves, and then took hold

of Snowflake and led her up to Clara.

 

“There, now you will not be alone,” said Heidi, giving the goat

a little push to show her she was to lie down near Clara, which

the animal quite understood. Heidi threw the leaves into Clara’s

lap, and the latter told her friend to go at once to look at the

flowers as she was quite happy to be left with the goat; she

liked this new experience. Heidi ran off, and Clara began to

hold out the leaves one by one to Snowflake, who snoozled up to

her new friend in a confiding manner and slowly ate the leaves

from her hand. It was easy to see that Snowflake enjoyed this

peaceful and sheltered way of feeding, for when with the other

goats she had much persecution to endure from the larger and

stronger ones of the flock. And Clara found a strange new

pleasure in sitting all alone like this on the mountain side, her

only companion a little goat that looked to her for protection.

She suddenly felt a great desire to be her own mistress and to be

able to help others, instead of herself being always dependent as

she was now. Many thoughts, unknown to her before, came crowding

into her mind, and a longing to go on living in the sunshine, and

to be doing something that would bring happiness to another, as

now she was helping to make the goat happy. An unaccustomed

feeling of joy took possession of her, as if everything she had

ever known or felt became all at once more beautiful, and she

seemed to see all things in a new light, and so strong was the

sense of this new beauty and happiness that she threw her arms

round the little goat’s neck, and exclaimed, “O Snowflake, how

delightful it is up here! if only I could stay on for ever with

you beside me!”

 

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