Heidi by Johanna Spyri (dark academia books to read txt) 📕

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 away. 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 tomorrow 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?