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

there it goes again, see, that one there!” And Heidi

pointed to the particular shutter.

 

“Alas, child, it is not only that I cannot see—I can see,

nothing, nothing,” said the grandmother in a voice of

lamentation.

 

“But if I were to go outside and put back the shutter so that

you had more light, then you could see, grandmother?”

 

“No, no, not even then, no one can make it light for me again.”

 

“But if you were to go outside among all the white snow, then

surely you would find it light; just come with me, grandmother,

and I will show you.” Heidi took hold of the old woman’s hand to

lead her along, for she was beginning to feel quite distressed

at the thought of her being without light.

 

“Let me be, dear child; it is always dark for me now; whether in

snow or sun, no light can penetrate my eyes.”

 

“But surely it does in summer, grandmother,” said Heidi, more

and more anxious to find some way out of the trouble, “when the

hot sun is shining down again, and he says good-night to the

mountains, and they all turn on fire, and the yellow flowers

shine like gold, then, you will see, it will be bright and

beautiful for you again.”

 

“Ah, child, I shall see the mountains on fire or the yellow

flowers no more; it will never be light for me again on earth,

never.”

 

At these words Heidi broke into loud crying. In her distress she

kept on sobbing out, “Who can make it light for you again? Can

no one do it? Isn’t there any one who can do it?”

 

The grandmother now tried to comfort the child, but it was not

easy to quiet her. Heidi did not often weep, but when she did

she could not get over her trouble for a long while. The

grandmother had tried all means in her power to allay the child’s

grief, for it went to her heart to hear her sobbing so bitterly.

At last she said, “Come here, dear Heidi, come and let me tell

you something. You cannot think how glad one is to hear a kind

word when one can no longer see, and it is such a pleasure to me

to listen to you while you talk. So come and sit beside me and

tell me something; tell me what you do up there, and how

grandfather occupies himself. I knew him very well in old days;

but for many years now I have heard nothing of him, except

through Peter, who never says much.”

 

This was a new and happy idea to Heidi; she quickly dried her

tears and said in a comforting voice, “Wait, grandmother, till I

have told grandfather everything, he will make it light for you

again, I am sure, and will do something so that the house will

not fall; he will put everything right for you.”

 

The grandmother was silent, and Heidi now began to give her a

lively description of her life with the grandfather, and of the

days she spent on the mountain with the goats, and then went on

to tell her of what she did now during the winter, and how her

grandfather was able to make all sorts of things, seats and

stools, and mangers where the hay was put for Little Swan and

Little Bear, besides a new large water-tub for her to bathe in

when the summer came, and a new milk-bowl and spoon, and Heidi

grew more and more animated as she enumerated all the beautiful

things which were made so magically out of pieces of wood; she

then told the grandmother how she stood by him and watched all

he did, and how she hoped some day to be able to make the same

herself.

 

The grandmother listened with the greatest attention, only from

time to time addressing her daughter, “Do you hear that,

Brigitta? Do you hear what she is saying about Uncle?”

 

The conversation was all at once interrupted by a heavy thump on

the door, and in marched Peter, who stood stock-still, opening

his eyes with astonishment, when he caught sight of Heidi; then

his face beamed with smiles as she called out, “Good-evening,

Peter.”

 

“What, is the boy back from school already?” exclaimed the

grandmother in surprise. “I have not known an afternoon pass so

quickly as this one for years. How is the reading getting on,

Peter?”

 

“Just the same,” was Peter’s answer.

 

The old woman gave a little sigh. “Ah, well,” she said, “I hoped

you would have something different to tell me by this time, as

you are going to be twelve years old this February.”

 

“What was it that you hoped he would have to tell you?” asked

Heidi, interested in all the grandmother said.

 

“I mean that he ought to have learnt to read a bit by now,”

continued the grandmother. “Up there on the shelf is an old

prayer-book, with beautiful songs in it which I have not heard

for a long time and cannot now remember to repeat to myself, and

I hoped that Peter would soon learn enough to be able to read

one of them to me sometimes; but he finds it too difficult.”

 

“I must get a light, it is getting too dark to see,” said

Peter’s mother, who was still busy mending his waistcoat. “I feel

too as if the afternoon had gone I hardly know how.”

 

Heidi now jumped up from her low chair, and holding out her hand

hastily to the grandmother said, “Good-night, grandmother, if it

is getting dark I must go home at once,” and bidding good-bye to

Peter and his mother she went towards the door. But the

grandmother called out in an anxious voice, “Wait, wait, Heidi;

you must not go alone like that, Peter must go with you; and

take care of the child, Peter, that she does not fall, and don’t

let her stand still for fear she should get frozen, do you hear?

Has she got anything warm to put around her throat?”

 

“I have not anything to put on,” called back Heidi, “but I am

sure I shall not be cold,” and with that she ran outside and

went off at such a pace that Peter had difficulty in overtaking

her. The grandmother, still in distress, called out to her

daughter, “Run after her, Brigitta; the child will be frozen to

death on such a night as this; take my shawl, run quickly!”

 

Brigitta ran out. But the children had taken but a few steps

before they saw the grandfather coming down to meet them, and in

another minute his long strides had brought him to their side.

 

“That’s right, Heidi; you have kept your word,” said the

grandfather, and then wrapping the sack firmly round her he

lifted her in his arms and strode off with her up the mountain.

Brigitta was just in time to see him do all this, and on her

return to the hut with Peter expressed her astonishment to the

grandmother. The latter was equally surprised, and kept on

saying, “God be thanked that he is good to the child, God be

thanked! Will he let her come to me again, I wonder! the child

has done me so much good. What a loving little heart it is, and

how merrily she tells her tale!” And she continued to dwell with

delight on the thought of the child until she went to bed, still

saying now and again, “If only she will come again! Now I have

really something left in the world to take pleasure in.” And

Brigitta agreed with all her mother said, and Peter nodded his

head in approval each time his grandmother spoke, saying, with a

broad smile of satisfaction, “I told you so!”

 

Meanwhile Heidi was chattering away to her grandfather from

inside her sack; her voice, however, could not reach him through

the many thick folds of her wrap, and as therefore it was

impossible to understand a word she was saying, he called to

her, “Wait till we get home, and then you can tell me all about

it.” They had no sooner got inside the hut than Heidi, having

been released from her covering, at once began what she had to

say, “Grandfather, tomorrow we must take the hammer and the long

nails and fasten grandmother’s shutter, and drive in a lot more

nails in other places, for her house shakes and rattles all

over.”

 

“We must, must we? who told you that?” asked her grandfather.

 

“Nobody told me, but I know it for all that,” replied Heidi,

“for everything is giving way, and when the grandmother cannot

sleep, she lies trembling for fear at the noise, for she thinks

that every minute the house will fall down on their heads; and

everything now is dark for grandmother, and she does not think

any one can make it light for her again, but you will be able

to, I am sure, grandfather. Think how dreadful it is for her to

be always in the dark, and then to be frightened at what may

happen, and nobody can help her but you. Tomorrow we must go and

help her; we will, won’t we, grandfather?”

 

The child was clinging to the old man and looking up at him in

trustful confidence. The grandfather looked down at Heidi for a

while without speaking, and then said, “Yes, Heidi, we will do

something to stop the rattling, at least we can do that; we will

go down about it tomorrow!”

 

The child went skipping round the room for joy, crying out, “We

shall go tomorrow! we shall go tomorrow!”

 

The grandfather kept his promise. On the following afternoon he

brought the sleigh out again, and as on the previous day, he set

Heidi down at the door of the grandmother’s hut and said, “Go in

now, and when it grows dark, come out again.” Then he put the

sack in the sleigh and went round the house.

 

Heidi had hardly opened the door and sprung into the room when

the grandmother called out from her corner, “It’s the child

again! here she comes!” and in her delight she let the thread

drop from her fingers, and the wheel stood still as she

stretched out both her hands in welcome. Heidi ran to her, and

then quickly drew the little stool close up to the old woman, and

seating herself upon it, began to tell and ask her all kinds of

things. All at once came the sound of heavy blows against the

wall of the hut and the grandmother gave such a start of alarm

that she nearly upset the spinning-wheel, and cried in a

trembling voice, “Ah, my God, now it is coming, the house is

going to fall upon us!” But Heidi caught her by the arm, and said

soothingly, “No, no, grandmother, do not be frightened, it is

only grandfather with his hammer; he is mending up everything, so

that you shan’t have such fear and trouble.”

 

“Is it possible! is it really possible! so the dear God has not

forgotten us!” exclaimed the grandmother. “Do you hear,

Brigitta, what that noise is? Did you hear what the child says?

Now, as I listen, I can tell it is a hammer; go outside,

Brigitta, and if it is Alm-Uncle, tell him he must come inside a

moment that I may thank him.”

 

Brigitta went outside and found Alm-Uncle in the act of

fastening some heavy pieces of new wood along the wall. She

stepped up to him and said, “Good-evening, Uncle, mother and I

have to thank you for doing us such a