Then Heidi told her how unhappy she had been, thinking that the grandmother might die while she was away and would never have her white rolls, and that then she would never, never see her again.
Peter’s mother now came in and stood for a moment overcome with astonishment. “Why, it’s Heidi,” she exclaimed, “and yet can it be?”
Heidi stood up, and Brigitta now could not say enough in her admiration of the child’s dress and appearance; she walked round her, exclaiming all the while, “Grandmother, if you could only see her, and see what a pretty frock she has on; you would hardly know her again. And the hat with the feather in it is yours too, I suppose? Put it on that I may see how you look in it?”
“No, I would rather not,” replied Heidi firmly. “You can have it if you like; I do not want it; I have my own still.” And Heidi so saying undid her red bundle and took out her own old hat, which had become a little more battered still during the journey. But this was no trouble to Heidi; she had not forgotten how her grandfather had called out to Dete that he never wished to see her and her hat and feathers again, and this was the reason she had so anxiously preserved her old hat, for she had never ceased to think about going home to her grandfather. But Brigitta told her not to be so foolish as to give it away; she would not think of taking such a beautiful hat; if Heidi did not want to wear it she might sell it to the schoolmaster’s daughter in Dorfli and get a good deal of money for it. But Heidi stuck to her intention and hid the hat quietly in a corner behind the grandmother’s chair. Then she took off her pretty dress and put her red shawl on over her under-petticoat, which left her arms bare; and now she clasped the old woman’s hand. “I must go home to grandfather,” she said, “but to-morrow I shall come again. Good- night, grandmother.”
“Yes, come again, be sure you come again tomorrow,” begged the grandmother, as she pressed Heidi’s hands in hers, unwilling to let her go.
“Why have you taken off that pretty dress?” asked Brigitta.
“Because I would rather go home to grandfather as I am or else perhaps he would not know me; you hardly did at first.”
Brigitta went with her to the door, and there said in rather a mysterious voice, “You might have kept on your dress, he would have known you all right; but you must be careful, for Peter tells me that Alm-Uncle is always now in a bad temper and never speaks.”
Heidi bid her good-night and continued her way up the mountain, her basket on her arm. All around her the steep green slopes shone bright in the evening sun, and soon the great gleaming snow- field up above came in sight. Heidi was obliged to keep on pausing to look behind her, for the higher peaks were behind her as she climbed. Suddenly a warm red glow fell on the grass at her feet; she looked back again—she had not remembered how splendid it was, nor seen anything to compare to it in her dreams— for there the two high mountain peeks rose into the air like two great flames, the whole snow-field had turned crimson, and rosy- colored clouds floated in the sky above. The grass upon the mountain sides had turned to gold, the rocks were all aglow, and the whole valley was bathed in golden mist. And as Heidi stood gazing around her at all this splendor the tears ran down her cheeks for very delight and happiness, and impulsively she put her hands together, and lifting her eyes to heaven, thanked God aloud for having brought her home, thanked Him that everything was as beautiful as ever, more beautiful even than she had thought, and that it was all hers again once more. And she was so overflowing with joy and thankfulness that she could not find words to thank Him enough. Not until the glory began to fade could she tear herself away. Then she ran on so quickly that in a very little while she caught sight of the tops of the fir trees above the hut roof, then the roof itself, and at last the whole hut, and there was grandfather sitting as in old days smoking his pipe, and she could see the fir trees waving in the wind. Quicker and quicker went her little feet, and before Alm-Uncle had time to see who was coming, Heidi had rushed up to him, thrown down her basket and flung her arms round his neck, unable in the excitement of seeing him again to say more than “Grandfather! grandfather! grandfather!” over and over again.
And the old man himself said nothing. For the first time for many years his eyes were wet, and he had to pass his hand across them. Then he unloosed Heidi’s arms, put her on his knee, and after looking at her for a moment, “So you have come back to me, Heidi,” he said, “how is that? You don’t look much of a grand lady. Did they send you away?”
“Oh, no, grandfather,” said Heidi eagerly, “you must not think that; they were all so kind—Clara, and grandmamma, and Herr Sesemann. But you see, grandfather, I did not know how to bear myself till I got home again to you. I used to think I should die, for I felt as if I could not breathe; but I never said anything because it would have been ungrateful. And then suddenly one morning quite early Herr Sesemann said to me—but I think it was partly the doctor’s doing—but perhaps it’s all in the letter—” and Heidi jumped down and fetched the roll and the letter and handed them both to her grandfather.
“That belongs to you,” said the latter, laying the roll down on the bench beside him. Then he opened the letter, read it through and without a word put it in his pocket.
“Do you think you can still drink milk with me, Heidi?” he asked, taking the child by the hand to go into the hut. “But bring your money with you; you can buy a bed and bedclothes and dresses for a couple of years with it.”
“I am sure I do not want it,” replied Heidi. “I have got a bed already, and Clara has put such a lot of clothes in my box that I shall never want any more.”
“Take it and put it in the cupboard; you will want it some day I have no doubt.”
Heidi obeyed and skipped happily after her grandfather into the house; she ran into all the corners, delighted to see everything again, and then went up the ladder—but there she came to a pause and called down in a tone of surprise and distress, “Oh, grandfather, my bed’s gone.”
“We can soon make it up again,” he answered her from below. “I did not know that you were coming back; come along now and have your milk.”
Heidi came down, sat herself on her high stool in the old place, and then taking up her bowl drank her milk eagerly, as if she had never come across anything so delicious, and as she put down her bowl, she exclaimed, “Our milk tastes nicer than anything else in the world, grandfather.”
A shrill whistle was heard outside. Heidi darted out like a flash of lightning. There were the goats leaping and springing among the rocks, with Peter in their midst. When he caught sight of Heidi he stood still with astonishment and gazed speechlessly at her. Heidi called out, “Good-evening, Peter,” and then ran in among the goats. “Little Swan! Little Bear! do you know me again?” And the animals evidently recognized her voice at once, for they began rubbing their heads against her and bleating loudly as if for joy, and as she called the other goats by name one after the other, they all came scampering towards her helter- skelter and crowding round her. The impatient Greenfinch sprang into the air and over two of her companions in order to get nearer, and even the shy little Snowflake butted the Great Turk out of her way in quite a determined manner, which left him standing taken aback by her boldness, and lifting his beard in the air as much as to say, You see who I am.
Heidi was out of her mind with delight at being among all her old friends again; she flung her arms round the pretty little Snowflake, stroked the obstreperous Greenfinch, while she herself was thrust at from all sides by the affectionate and confiding goats; and so at last she got near to where Peter was still standing, not having yet got over his surprise.
“Come down, Peter,” cried Heidi, “and say good-evening to me.”
“So you are back again?” he found words to say at last, and now ran down and took Heidi’s hand which she was holding out in greeting, and immediately put the same question to her which he had been in the habit of doing in the old days when they returned home in t
he evening, “Will you come out with me again to- morrow?”
“Not to-morrow, but the day after perhaps, for to-morrow I must go down to grandmother.”
“I am glad you are back,” said Peter, while his whole face beamed with pleasure, and then he prepared to go on with his goats; but he never had had so much trouble with them before, for when at last, by coaxing and threats, he had got them all together, and Heidi had gone off with an arm over either head of her grandfather’s two, the whole flock suddenly turned and ran after her. Heidi had to go inside the stall with her two and shut the door, or Peter would never have got home that night. When Heidi went indoors after this she found her bed already made up for her; the hay had been piled high for it and smelt deliciously, for it had only just been got in, and the grandfather had carefully spread and tucked in the clean sheets. It was with a happy heart that Heidi lay down in it that night, and her sleep was sounder than it had been for a whole year past. The grandfather got up at least ten times during the night and mounted the ladder to see if Heidi was all right and showing no signs of restlessness, and to feel that the hay he had stuffed into the round window was keeping the moon from shining too brightly upon her. But Heidi did not stir; she had no need now to wander about, for the great burning longing of her heart was satisfied; she had seen the high mountains and rocks alight in the evening glow, she had heard the wind in the fir trees, she was at home again on the mountain.
CHAPTER XIV. SUNDAY BELLS
Heidi was standing under the waving fir trees waiting for her grandfather, who was going down with her to grandmother’s, and then on to Dorfli to fetch her box. She was longing to know how grandmother had enjoyed her white bread and impatient to see and hear her again; but no time seemed weary to her now, for she could not listen long enough to the familiar voice of the trees, or drink in too much of the fragrance wafted to her from the green pastures where the golden-headed flowers were glowing in the sun, a very feast to her eyes. The grandfather came out, gave a look round, and then called to her in a cheerful voice, “Well, now we can be off.”
It was Saturday, a day when Alm-Uncle made everything clean and tidy inside and outside the house; he had devoted his morning to this work so as to be able to accompany Heidi in the afternoon, and the whole place was now as spick and span as he liked to see it. They parted at the grandmother’s cottage and Heidi ran in. The grandmother had heard her steps approaching and greeted her as she crossed the threshold, “Is it you, child? Have you come again?”
Then she took hold of Heidi’s hand and held it fast in her own, for she still seemed to fear that the child might be torn from her again. And now she had to tell Heidi how much she had enjoyed the white bread, and how much stronger she felt already for having been able to eat it, and then Peter’s mother went on and said she was sure that if her mother could eat like that for a week she would get back some of her strength, but she was so afraid of coming to the end of the rolls, that she had only eaten one as yet. Heidi listened to all Brigitta said, and sat thinking for a while. Then she suddenly thought of a way.
“I know, grandmother, what I will do,” she said eagerly, “I will write to Clara, and she will send me as many rolls again, if not twice as many as you have already, for I had ever such a large heap in the wardrobe, and when they were all taken away she promised to give me as many back, and she would do so I am sure.”
“That is a good idea,” said Brigitta; “but then, they would get hard and stale. The baker in Dorfli makes the white rolls, and if we could get some of those he has over now and then—but I can only just manage to pay for the black bread.”
A further bright thought came to Heidi, and with a look of joy, “Oh, I have lots of money, grandmother,” she cried gleefully, skipping about the room in her delight, “and I know now what I will do with it. You must have a fresh white roll every day, and two on Sunday, and Peter can bring them up from Dorfli.”
“No, no, child!” answered the grandmother, “I cannot let you do that; the money was not given to you for that purpose; you must give it to your grandfather, and he will tell you how you are to spend it.”
But Heidi was not to be hindered in her kind intentions, and she continued to jump about, saying over and over again in a tone of exultation, “Now, grandmother can have a roll every day and will grow quite strong again—and, Oh, grandmother,” she suddenly exclaimed with an increase of jubilation in her voice, “if you get strong everything will grow light again for you; perhaps it’s only because you are weak that it is dark.” The grandmother said nothing, she did not wish to spoil the child’s pleasure. As she went jumping about Heidi suddenly caught sight of the grandmother’s song book, and another happy idea struck her, “Grandmother, I can also read now, would you like me to read you one of your hymns from your old book?”
“Oh, yes,” said the grandmother, surprised and delighted; “but can you really read, child, really?”
Heidi had climbed on to a chair and had already lifted down the book, bringing a cloud of dust with it, for it had lain untouched on the shelf for a long time. Heidi wiped it, sat herself down on a stool beside the old woman, and asked her which hymn she should read.
“What you like, child, what you like,” and the grandmother pushed her spinning-wheel aside and sat in eager expectation waiting for Heidi to begin. Heidi turned over the leaves and read a line out softly to herself here and there. At last she said,
“Here is one about the sun, grandmother, I will read you that.” And Heidi began, reading with more and more warmth of expression as she went on,—
The morning breaks,
And warm and bright
The earth lies still
In the golden light—
For Dawn has scattered the clouds of night.
God’s handiwork
Is seen around,
Things great and small
To His praise abound—
Where are the signs of His love not found?
All things must pass,
But God shall still
With steadfast power
His will fulfil—
Sure and unshaken is His will.
His saving grace
Will never fail,
Though grief and fear
The heart assail—
O’er life’s wild seas He will prevail.
Joy shall be ours
In that garden blest,
Where after storm
We find our rest—
I wait in peace—God’s time is best.
The grandmother sat with folded hands and a look of indescribable joy on her face, such as Heidi had never seen there before, although at the same time the tears were running down her cheeks. As Heidi finished, she implored her, saying, “Read it once again, child, just once again.”
And the child began again, with as much pleasure in the verses as the grandmother,—
Joy shall be ours
In that garden blest,
Where after storm
We find our rest—
I wait in peace—God’s time is best.
“Ah, Heidi, that brings light to the heart! What comfort you have brought me!”
And the old woman kept on repeating the glad words, while Heidi beamed with happiness, and she could not take her eyes away from the grandmother’s face, which had never looked like that before. It had no longer the old troubled expression, but was alight with peace and joy as if she were already looking with clear new eyes into the garden or Paradise.
Some one now knocked at the window and Heidi looked up and saw her grandfather beckoning her to come home with him. She promised the grandmother before leaving her that she would be with her the next day, and even if she went out with Peter she would only spend half the day with him, for the thought that she might make it light and happy again for the gr
andmother gave her the greatest pleasure, greater even than being out on the sunny mountain with the flowers and goats. As she was going out Brigitta ran to her with the frock and hat she had left. Heidi put the dress over her arm, for, as she thought to herself, the grandfather had seen that before, but she obstinately refused to take back the hat; Brigitta could keep it, for she should never put it on her head again. Heidi was so full of her morning’s doings that she began at once to tell her grandfather all about them: how the white bread could be fetched every day from Dorfli if there was money for it, and how the grandmother had all at once grown stronger and happier, and light had come to her. Then she returned to the subject of the rolls. “If the grandmother won’t take the money, grandfather, will you give it all to me, and I can then give Peter enough every day to buy a roll and two on Sunday?”
“But how about the bed?” said her grandfather. “It would be nice for you to have a proper bed, and there would then be plenty for the bread.”
But Heidi gave her grandfather no peace till he consented to do what she wanted; she slept a great deal better, she said, on her bed of hay than on her fine pillowed bed in Frankfurt. So at last he said, “The money is yours, do what you like with it; you can buy bread for grandmother for years to come with it.”
Heidi shouted for joy at the thought that grandmother would never need any more to eat hard black bread, and “Oh, grandfather!” she said, “everything is happier now than it has ever been in our lives before!” and she sang and skipped along, holding her grandfather’s hand as light-hearted as a bird. But all at once she grew quiet and said, “If God had let me come at once, as I prayed, then everything would have been different, I should only have had a little bread to bring to grandmother, and I should not have been able to read, which is such a comfort to her; but God has arranged it all so much better than I knew how to; everything has happened just as the other grandmother said it would. Oh, how glad I am that God did not let me have at once all I prayed and wept for! And now I shall always pray to God as she told me, and always thank Him, and when He does not do anything I ask for I shall think to myself, It’s just like it was in Frankfurt: God, I am sure, is going to do something better still. So we will pray every day, won’t we, grandfather, and never forget Him again, or else He may forget us.”
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