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

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 tomorrow,” 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