Heidi, Johanna Spyri [reading e books .TXT] 📗

Clara, who agreed to Heidi’s

proposal but did not want to move from where she was, as it was

so much nicer outside. Heidi was prepared to arrange everything.

She ran in and brought out her school-book and writing things and

her own little stool. She put her reading book and copy book on

Clara’s knees, to make a desk for her to write upon, and she

herself took her seat on the stool and sat to the bench, and then

they both began writing to grandmamma. But Clara paused after

every sentence to look about her; it was too beautiful for much

letter writing. The breeze had sunk a little, and now only gently

fanned her face and whispered lightly through the fir trees.

Little winged insects hummed and danced around her in the clear

air, and a great stillness lay over the far, wide, sunny pasture

lands. Lofty and silent rose the high mountain peaks above her,

and below lay the whole broad valley full of quiet peace. Only

now and again the call of some shepherd-boy rang out through the

air, and echo answered softly from the rocks. The morning passed,

the children hardly knew how, and now grandfather came with the

mid-day bowls of steaming milk, for the little daughter, he said,

was to remain out as long as there was a gleam of sun in the sky.

The mid-day meal was set out and eaten as yesterday in the open

air. Then Heidi pushed Clara’s chair under the fir trees, for

they had agreed to spend the afternoon under their shade and

there tell each other all that had happened since Heidi left

Frankfurt. If everything had gone on there as usual in a general

way, there were still all kinds of particular things to tell

Heidi about the various people who composed the Sesemann

household, and who were all so well known to Heidi.

 

So they sat and chatted under the trees, and the more lively

grew their conversation, the more loudly sang the birds overhead,

as if wishing to take part in the children’s gossip, which

evidently pleased them. So the hours flew by and all at once, as

it seemed, the evening had come with the returning Peter, who

still scowled and looked angry.

 

“Good-night, Peter,” called out Heidi, as she saw he had no

intention of stopping to speak.

 

“Good-night, Peter,” called out Clara in a friendly voice. Peter

took no notice and went surlily on with his goats.

 

As Clara saw the grandfather leading away Little Swan to milk

her, she was suddenly taken with a longing for another bowlful

of the fragrant milk, and waited impatiently for it.

 

“Isn’t it curious, Heidi,” she said, astonished at herself, “as

long as I can remember I have only eaten because I was obliged

to, and everything used to seem to taste of cod liver oil, and I

was always wishing there was no need to eat or drink; and now I

am longing for grandfather to bring me the milk.”

 

“Yes, I know what it feels like,” replied Heidi, who remembered

the many days in Frankfurt when all her food used to seem to

stick in her throat. Clara, however, could not understand it;

the fact was that she had never in her life before spent a whole

day in the open air, much less in such high, life-giving mountain

air. When grandfather at last brought her the evening milk, she

drank it up so quickly that she had emptied her bowl before

Heidi, and then she asked for a little more. The grandfather

went inside with both the children’s bowls, and when he brought

them out again full he had something else to add to their supper.

He had walked over that afternoon to a herdsman’s house where the

sweetly-tasting butter was made, and had brought home a large

pat, some of which he had now spread thickly on two good slices

of bread. He stood and watched with pleasure while Clara and

Heidi ate their appetising meal with childish hunger and

enjoyment.

 

That night, when Clara lay down in her bed and prepared to watch

the stars, her eyes would not keep open, and she fell asleep as

soon as Heidi and slept soundly all night—a thing she never

remembered having done before. The following day and the day

after passed in the same pleasant fashion, and the third day

there came a surprise for the children. Two stout porters came

up the mountain, each carrying a bed on his shoulders with

bedding of all kinds and two beautiful new white coverlids. The

men also had a letter with them from grandmamma, in which she

said that these were for Clara and Heidi, and that Heidi in

future was always to sleep in a proper bed, and when she went

down to Dorfli in the winter she was to take one with her and

leave the other at the hut, so that Clara might always know there

was a bed ready for her when she paid a visit to the mountain.

She went on to thank the children for their long letters and

encouraged them to continue writing daily, so that she might be

able to picture all they were doing.

 

So the grandfather went up and threw back the hay from Heidi’s

bed on to the great heap, and then with his help the beds were

transported to the loft. He put them close to one another so

that the children might still be able to see out of the window,

for he knew what pleasure they had in the light from the sun and

stars.

 

Meanwhile grandmamma down at Ragatz was rejoicing at the

excellent news of the invalid which reached her daily from the

mountain. Clara found the life more charming each day and could

not say enough of the kindness and care which the grandfather

lavished upon her, nor of Heidi’s lively and amusing

companionship, for the latter was more entertaining even than

when in Frankfurt with her, and Clara’s first thought when she

woke each morning was, “Oh, how glad I am to be here still.”

 

Having such fresh assurances each day that all was going well

with Clara, grandmamma thought she might put off her visit to

the children a little longer, for the steep ride up and down was

somewhat of a fatigue to her.

 

The grandfather seemed to feel an especial sympathy for this

little invalid charge, for he tried to think of something fresh

every day to help forward her recovery. He climbed up the

mountain every afternoon, higher and higher each day, and came

home in the evening with a large bunch of leaves which scented

the air with a mingled fragrance as of carnations and thyme,

even from afar. He hung it up in the goat shed, and the goats on

their return were wild to get at it, for they recognised the

smell. But Uncle did not go climbing after rare plants to give

the goats the pleasure of eating them without any trouble of

finding them; what he gathered was for Little Swan alone, that

she might give extra fine milk, and the effect of the extra

feeding was shown in the way she flung her head in the air with

ever-increasing frolicsomeness, and in the bright glow of her

eye.

 

Clara had now been on the mountain for three weeks. For some

days past the grandfather, each morning after carrying her down,

had said, “Won’t the little daughter try if she can stand for a

minute or two?” And Clara had made the effort in order to please

him, but had clung to him as soon as her feet touched the

ground, exclaiming that it hurt her so. He let her try a little

longer, however, each day.

 

It was many years since they had had such a splendid summer

among the mountains. Day after day there were the same cloudless

sky and brilliant sun; the flowers opened wide their fragrant

blossoms, and everywhere the eye was greeted with a glow of

color; and when the evening came the crimson light fell on

mountain peaks and on the great snowfield, till at last the sun

sank in a sea of golden flame.

 

And Heidi never tired of telling Clara of all this, for only

higher up could the full glory of the colors be rightly seen;

and more particularly did she dwell on the beauty of the spot on

the higher slope of the mountain, where the bright golden rock-roses grew in masses, and the blue flowers were in such numbers

that the very grass seemed to have turned blue, while near these

were whole bushes of the brown blossoms, with their delicious

scent, so that you never wanted to move again when you once sat

down among them.

 

She had just been expatiating on the flowers as she sat with

Clara under the fir trees one evening, and had been telling her

again of the wonderful light from the evening sun, when such an

irrepressible longing came over her to see it all once more that

she jumped up and ran to her grandfather, who was in the shed,

calling out almost before she was inside,—

 

“Grandfather, will you take us out with the goats tomorrow? Oh,

it is so lovely up there now!”

 

“Very well,” he answered, “but if I do, the little daughter must

do something to please me: she must try her best again this

evening to stand on her feet.”

 

Heidi ran back with the good news to Clara, and the latter

promised to try her very best as the grandfather wished, for she

looked forward immensely to the next day’s excursion. Heidi was

so pleased and excited that she called out to Peter as soon as

she caught sight of him that evening,—

 

“Peter, Peter, we are all coming out with you tomorrow and are

going to stay up there the whole day.”

 

Peter, cross as a bear, grumbled some reply, and lifted his

stick to give Greenfinch a blow for no reason in particular, but

Greenfinch saw the movement, and with a leap over Snowflake’s

back she got out of the way, and the stick only hit the air.

 

Clara and Heidi got into their two fine beds that night full of

delightful anticipation of the morrow; they were so full of

their plans that they agreed to keep awake all night and talk

over them until they might venture to get up. But their heads had

no sooner touched their soft pillows than the conversation

suddenly ceased, and Clara fell into a dream of an immense field,

which looked the color of the sky, so thickly inlaid was it with

blue bell-shaped flowers; and Heidi heard the great bird of prey

calling to her from the heights above, “Come! come! come!”

 

CHAPTER XXII. SOMETHING UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

 

Uncle went out early the next morning to see what kind of a day

it was going to be. There was a reddish gold light over the

higher peaks; a light breeze springing up and the branches of the

fir trees moved gently to and fro the sun was on its way.

 

The old man stood and watched the green slopes under the higher

peaks gradually growing brighter with the coming day and the dark

shadows lifting from the valley, until at first a rosy light

filled its hollows, and then the morning gold flooded every

height and depth—the sun had risen.

 

Uncle wheeled the chair out of the shed ready for the coming

journey, and then went in to call the children and tell them what

a lovely sunrise it was.

 

Peter came up at this moment. The goats did not gather round him