The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels

by Various Authors

  “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 could now really walk about with her, she went up to the old man, and then letting go Clara’s arm she seized his hands.

  “My dear Uncle! my dear Uncle! how much we have to thank you for! It is all your doing! it is your caring and nursing——”

  “And God’s good sun and mountain air,” he interrupted her, smiling.

  “Yes, and don’t forget the beautiful milk I have,” put in Clara. “Grandmamma, you can’t think what a quantity of goat’s milk I drink, and how nice it is!”

  “I can see that by your cheeks, child,” answered grandmamma. “I really should not have known you; you have grown quite strong and plump, and taller too; I never hoped or expected to see you look like that. I cannot take my eyes off you, for I can hardly yet believe it. But now I must telegraph without delay to my son in Paris, and tell him he must come here at once. I shall not say why; it will be the greatest happiness he has ever known. My dear Uncle, how can I send a telegram; have you dismissed the men yet?”

  “They have gone,” he answered, “but if you are in a hurry I will fetch Peter, and he can take it for you.”

  Grandmamma thanked him, for she was anxious that the good news should not be kept from her son a day longer than was possible.

  So Uncle went aside a little way and blew such a resounding whistle through his fingers that he awoke a responsive echo among the rocks far overhead. He had not to wait many minutes before Peter came running down in answer, for he knew the sound of Uncle’s whistle. Peter arrived, looking as white as a ghost, for he quite thought Uncle was sending for him to give him up. But as it was he only had a written paper given him with instructions to take it down at once to the post-office at Dorfli; Uncle would settle for the payment later, as it was not safe to give Peter too much to look after.

  Peter went off with the paper in his hand, feeling some relief of mind for the present, for as Uncle had not whistled for him in order to give him up it was evident that no policeman had yet arrived.

  So now they could all sit down in peace to their dinner round the table in front of the hut, and grandmamma was given a detailed account of all that had taken place. How grandfather had made Clara try first to stand and then to move her feet a little every day, and how they had settled for the day’s excursion up the mountain and the chair had been blown a
way. How Clara’s desire to see the flowers had induced her to take the first walk, and so by degrees one thing had led to another. The recital took some time, for grandmamma continually interrupted it with fresh exclamations of surprise and thankfulness: “It hardly seems possible! I can scarcely believe it is not all a dream! Are we really awake, and are all sitting here by the mountain hut, and is that round-faced, healthy-looking child my poor little, white, sickly Clara?”

  And Clara and Heidi could not get over their delight at the success of the surprise they had so carefully arranged for grandmamma and at the latter’s continued astonishment.

  Meanwhile Herr Sesemann, who had finished his business in Paris, had also been preparing a surprise. Without saying a word to his mother he got into the train one sunny morning and travelled that day to Basle; the next morning he continued his journey, for a great longing had seized him to see his little daughter from whom he had been separated the whole summer. He arrived at Ragatz a few hours after his mother had left. When he heard that she had that very day started for the mountain, he immediately hired a carriage and drove off to Mayenfeld; here he found that he could if he liked drive on as far as Dorfli, which he did, as he thought the walk up from that place would be as long as he cared for.

  Herr Sesemann found he was right, for the climb up the mountain, as it was, proved long and fatiguing to him. He went on and on, but still no hut came in sight, and yet he knew there was one where Peter lived half way up, for the path had been described to him over and over again.

  There were traces of climbers to be seen on all sides; the narrow footpaths seemed to run in every direction, and Herr Sesemann began to wonder if he was on the right one, and whether the hut lay perhaps on the other side of the mountain. He looked round to see if any one was in sight of whom he could ask the way; but far and wide there was not a soul to be seen or a sound to be heard. Only at moments the mountain wind whistled through the air, and the insects hummed in the sunshine or a happy bird sang out from the branches of a solitary larch tree. Herr Sesemann stood still for a while to let the cool Alpine wind blow on his hot face. But now some one came running down the mountain- side—it was Peter with the telegram in his hand. He ran straight down the steep slope, not following the path on which Herr Sesemann was standing. As soon as the latter caught sight of him he beckoned to him to come. Peter advanced towards him slowly and timidly, with a sort of sidelong movement, as if he could only move one leg properly and had to drag the other after him. “Hurry up, lad,” called Herr Sesemann, and when Peter was near enough, “Tell me,” he said, “is this the way to the hut where the old man and the child Heidi live, and where the visitors from Frankfurt are staying?”

  A low sound of fear was the only answer he received, as Peter turned to run away in such precipitous haste that he fell head over heels several times, and went rolling and bumping down the slope in involuntary bounds, just in the same way as the chair, only that Peter fortunately did not fall to pieces as that had done. Only the telegram came to grief, and that was torn into fragments and flew away.

  “How extraordinarily timid these mountain dwellers are!” thought Herr Sesemann to himself, for he quite believed that it was the sight of a stranger that had made such an impression on this unsophisticated child of the mountains.

  After watching Peter’s violent descent towards the valley for a few minutes he continued his journey.

  Peter, meanwhile, with all his efforts, could not stop himself, but went rolling on, and still tumbling head over heels at intervals in a most remarkable manner.

  But this was not the most terrible part of his sufferings at the moment, for far worse was the fear and horror that possessed him, feeling sure, as he did now, that the policeman had really come over for him from Frankfurt. He had no doubt at all that the stranger who had asked him the way was the very man himself. Just as he had rolled to the edge of that last high slope above Dorfli he was caught in a bush, and at last able to keep himself from falling any farther. He lay still for a second or two to recover himself, and to think over matters.

  “Well done! another of you come bumping along like this!” said a voice close to Peter, “and which of you to-morrow is the wind going to send rolling down like a badly-sewn sack of potatoes?” It was the baker, who stood there laughing. He had been strolling out to refresh himself after his hot day’s work, and had watched with amusement as he saw Peter come rolling over and over in much the same way as the chair.

  Peter was on his feet in a moment. He had received a fresh shock. Without once looking behind him he began hurrying up the slope again. He would have liked best to go home and creep into bed, so as to hide himself, for he felt safest when there. But he had left the goats up above, and Uncle had given him strict injunctions to make haste back so that they might not be left too long alone. And he stood more in awe of Uncle than any one, and would not have dared to disobey him on any account. There was no help for it, he had to go back, and Peter went on groaning and limping. He could run no more, for the anguish of mind he had been through, and the bumping and shaking he had received, were beginning to tell upon him. And so with lagging steps and groans he slowly made his way up the mountain.

  Shortly after meeting Peter, Herr Sesemann passed the first hut, and so was satisfied that he was on the right path. He continued his climb with renewed courage, and at last, after a long and exhausting walk, he came in sight of his goal. There, only a little distance farther up, stood the grandfather’s home, with the dark tops of the fir trees waving above its roof.

  Herr Sesemann was delighted to have come to the last steep bit of his journey, in another minute or two he would be with his little daughter, and he pleased himself with the thought of her surprise. But the company above had seen his approaching figure and recognized who it was, and they were preparing something he little expected as a surprise on their part.

  As he stepped on to the space in front of the hut two figures came towards him. One a tall girl with fair hair and pink cheeks, leaning on Heidi, whose dark eyes were dancing with joy. Herr Sesemann suddenly stopped, staring at the two children, and all at once the tears started to his eyes. What memories arose in his heart! Just so had Clara’s mother looked, the fair-haired girl with the delicate pink-and-white complexion. Herr Sesemann did not know if he was awake or dreaming.

  “Don’t you know me, papa?” called Clara to him, her face beaming with happiness. “Am I so altered since you saw me?”

  Then Herr Sesemann ran to his child and clasped her in his arms.

  “Yes, you are indeed altered! How is it possible? Is it true what I see?” And the delighted father stepped back to look full at her again, and to make sure that the picture would not vanish before his eyes.

  “Are you my little Clara, really my little Clara?” he kept on saying, then he clasped her in his arms again, and again put her away from him that he might look and make sure it was she who stood before him.

  And now grandmamma came up, anxious for a sight of her son’s happy face.

  “Well, what do you say now, dear son?” she exclaimed. “You have given us a pleasant surprise, but it is nothing in comparison to what we have prepared for you, you must confess,” and she gave her son an affectionate kiss as she spoke. “But now,” she went on, “you must come and pay your respects to Uncle, who is our chief benefactor.”

  “Yes, indeed, and with the little inmate of our own house, our little Heidi, too,” said Herr Sesemann, shaking Heidi by the hand. “Well? are you still well and happy in your mountain home? but I need not ask, no Alpine rose could look more blooming. I am glad, child, it is a pleasure to me to see you so.”

  And Heidi looked up with equal pleasure into Herr Sesemann’s kind face. How good he had always been to her! And that he should find such happiness awaiting him up here on the mountain made her heart beat with gladness.

  Grandmamma now led her son to introduce him to Uncle, and whil
e the two men were shaking hands and Herr Sesemann was expressing his heartfelt thanks and boundless astonishment to the old man, grandmamma wandered round to the back to see the old fir trees again.

  Here another unexpected sight met her gaze, for there, under the trees where the long branches had left a clear space on the ground, stood a great bush of the most wonderful dark blue gentians, as fresh and shining as if they were growing on the spot. She clasped her hands, enraptured with their beauty.

  “How exquisite! what a lovely sight!” she exclaimed. “Heidi, dearest child, come here! Is it you who have prepared this pleasure for me? It is perfectly wonderful!”

  The children ran up.

  “No, no, I did not put them there,” said Heidi, “but I know who did.”

  “They grow just like that on the mountain, grandmamma, only if anything they look more beautiful still,” Clara put in; “but guess who brought those down to-day,” and as she spoke she gave such a pleased smile that the grandmother thought for a moment the child herself must have gathered them. But that was hardly possible.

  At this moment a slight rustling was heard behind the fir trees. It was Peter, who had just arrived. He had made a long round, having seen from the distance who it was standing beside Uncle in front of the hut, and he was trying to slip by unobserved. But grandmamma had seen and recognized him, and suddenly the thought struck her that it might be Peter who had brought the flowers and that he was now trying to get away unseen, feeling shy about it; but she could not let him go off like that, he must have some little reward.

  “Come along, boy; come here, do not be afraid,” she called to him.

  Peter stood still, petrified with fear. After all he had gone through that day he felt he had no longer any power of resistance left. All he could think was, “It’s all up with me now.” Every hair of his head stood on end, and he stepped forth from behind the fir trees, his face pale and distorted with terror.