EXCURSIONS OVER THE MOUNTAINS
The next morning the doctor climbed up from Doerfli with Peter and the
goats. At the hut, they found Heidi awaiting them with her two goats,
all three as fresh and lively as the morning sun among the mountains.
"Are you coming today?" said Peter, repeating the words with which he
daily greeted her.
"Of course I am, if the doctor is coming too," replied Heidi.
Peter cast a sidelong glance at the doctor. The grandfather now came
out with the dinner bag, and after bidding good-day to the doctor he
went up to Peter and slung it over his neck. It was heavier than usual,
for Alm-Uncle had added some meat today, as he thought the doctor might
like to have his lunch out of doors with the children. Peter gave a
grin, for he felt sure there was something extra good in it.
And so the ascent began. The goats as usual came thronging round Heidi,
each trying to be nearest her, until at last she stood still and
said, "Now you must go on in front and behave properly, and not keep
on turning back and pushing and poking me, for I want to talk to the
doctor." By degrees she managed to make her way out from among them and
joined the doctor, who took her by the hand. Heidi had a great deal
to say about the goats and their peculiarities, and about the flowers
and the rocks and the birds, and so they clambered on and reached
their resting-place before they were aware. Peter had sent a good many
unfriendly glances towards the doctor on the way up, which might have
quite alarmed the latter if he had happened to notice them, which,
fortunately, he did not.
Heidi led her friend to her favorite spot where she was accustomed to
sit and enjoy the beauty around her; the doctor followed her example
and took his seat beside her on the warm grass. The great snowfield
sparkled in the bright sunlight, on the rocky peaks. A soft, light
morning breeze blew deliciously across the mountain, gently stirring
the bluebells that still remained of the summer's wealth of flowers,
their slender heads nodding cheerfully in the sunshine. Overhead the
great bird was flying round and round in wide circles. Heidi looked
about her first at one thing and then at another. Her eyes were alight
with joy. She turned to her friend to see if he too were enjoying the
beauty. The doctor had been sitting thoughtfully gazing around him. As
he met her glad bright eyes, "Yes, Heidi," he responded, "I see how
lovely it all is, but tell me--if one brings a sad heart up here, how
may it be healed so that it can rejoice in all this beauty?"
"But no one is sad up here, only in Frankfurt," exclaimed Heidi.
The doctor smiled, and then growing serious again he continued, "But
supposing one is not able to leave all the sadness behind at Frankfurt;
can you tell me anything that will help then?"
"When you do not know what more to do you must go and tell everything
to God," answered Heidi with decision.
"Ah, that is a good thought of yours, Heidi," said the doctor. "But
if it is God Himself who has sent the trouble, what can we say to Him
then?"
Heidi sat pondering for a while; she was sure in her heart that God
could help out of every trouble. She thought over her own experiences
and then found her answer.
"Then you must wait," she said, "and keep on saying to yourself: God
certainly knows of some happiness for us which He is going to bring out
of the trouble, only we must have patience and not run away."
"That is a beautiful faith, child, and be sure you hold it fast,"
replied the doctor. "But can you understand, Heidi, that a man may sit
here with such a shadow over his eyes that he cannot feel and enjoy
the beauty around him, while the heart grows doubly sad knowing how
beautiful it could be. Can you understand that?"
A pain shot through the child's young, happy heart. The shadow over the
eyes brought to her remembrance the grandmother, who would never again
be able to see the sunlight and the beauty up here. This was Heidi's
great sorrow, which reawoke each time she thought about the darkness.
"Yes, I can understand it. And I know this, that then one must say one
of grandmother's hymns, which bring the light back a little, and often
make it so bright for her that she is quite happy again. Grandmother
herself told me this."
"Which hymns are they, Heidi?" asked the doctor.
"I only know the one about the sun and the beautiful garden, and some
of the verses of the long one, which are favorites with her, and she
always likes me to read them to her two or three times over," replied
Heidi.
"Well, say the verses to me then, I should like to hear them too," said
the doctor.
Heidi collected her thoughts for a second or two and began,--
Let not your heart be troubled
Nor fear your soul dismay,
There is a wise Defender
And He will be your stay.
Where you have failed, He conquers,
See, how the foeman flies!
And all your tribulation
Is turned to glad surprise.
If for a while it seemeth
His mercy is withdrawn,
That He no longer careth
For His wandering child forlorn,
Doubt not His great compassion,
His love can never tire,
To those who wait in patience
He gives their heart's desire.
Suddenly she paused; she was not sure if the doctor was still
listening. He was sitting motionless with his hand before his eyes. His
thoughts had carried him back to a long past time: he saw himself as a
little boy standing by his dear mother's chair; she had her arm round
his neck and was saying the very verses to him that Heidi had just
recited--words which he had not heard now for years. He could hear his
mother's voice and see her loving eyes resting upon him, and as Heidi
ceased the old dear voice seemed to be saying other things to him; and
the words he heard again must have carried him far, far away, for it
was a long time before he stirred or took his hand from his eyes. When
at last he roused himself he met Heidi's eyes looking wonderingly at
him.
"Heidi," he said, taking the child's hand in his, "that was a beautiful
hymn of yours," and there was a happier ring in his voice as he spoke.
"We will come out here together another day, and you will let me hear
it again."
Peter meanwhile had been giving vent to his anger. It was now some
days since Heidi had been out with him, and when at last she did come
there she sat the whole time beside the old gentleman, and Peter could
not get a word with her. He got into a terrible temper, and at last
went and stood some way back behind the doctor, where the latter could
not see him, and doubling his fist made imaginary hits at the enemy.
Presently he doubled both fists, and the longer Heidi stayed beside the
gentleman, the more fiercely did he threaten with them.
Meanwhile the sun had risen to the height which Peter knew pointed to
the dinner hour. All of a sudden he called at the top of his voice,
"It's dinner time."
Heidi started for the dinner bag so that the doctor might eat his where
he sat. But he stopped her, telling her he was not hungry at all, and
only cared for a glass of milk, as he wanted to climb up a little
higher. Then Heidi found that she also was not hungry and only wanted
milk, and she should like, she said, to take the doctor up to the large
moss-covered rock where Greenfinch had nearly jumped down and killed
herself. So she ran and explained matters to Peter, telling him to go
and get milk for the two. Peter seemed hardly to understand. "Who is
going to eat what is in the bag, then?" he asked.
"You can have it," she answered, "only first make haste and get the
milk."
Peter had seldom performed any task more promptly, for he thought of
the bag and its contents, which now belonged to him. As soon as the
other two were sitting quietly drinking their milk, he opened it,
and quite trembled for joy at the sight of the meat, and he was just
putting his hand in to draw it out when something seemed to hold him
back. His conscience smote him at the remembrance of how he had stood
with his doubled fists behind the doctor, who was giving up to him his
whole good dinner. He felt as if he could not now enjoy it. But all at
once he jumped up and ran back to the spot where he had stood before,
and there held up his open hands as a sign that he had no longer any
wish to use them as fists, and kept them up until he felt he had made
amends for his past conduct. Then he rushed back and sat down to the
double enjoyment of a clear conscience and unusually satisfying meal.
Heidi and the doctor climbed and talked for a long while, until
the latter said it was time for him to be going back, and no doubt
Heidi would like to go and be with her goats. But Heidi would not
hear of this, as then the doctor would have to go the whole way down
the mountain alone. She insisted on accompanying him as far as the
grandfather's hut, or even a little further. She kept hold of her
friend's hand all the time, and the whole way she entertained him with
accounts of this thing and that. But at last the doctor insisted on her
going back; so they bid each other good-night and the doctor continued
his descent, turning now and again to look back, and each time he saw
Heidi standing on the same spot and waving her hand to him. Even so in
the old days had his own dear little daughter watched him when he went
from home.
[Illustration]
It was a bright, sunny autumn month. The doctor came up to the hut
every morning, and thence made excursions over the mountain. Alm-Uncle
accompanied him on some of his higher ascents. The doctor found great
pleasure in his companion's conversation, and was astonished at his
knowledge of the plants that grew on the mountain. He was well versed
also in the ways of the animals, great and small, and had many amusing
anecdotes to tell of these dwellers in caves and holes and in the tops
of the fir trees. And so the time passed pleasantly and quickly for
the doctor, who seldom said good-bye to the old man at the end of the
day without adding, "I never leave you, friend, without having learnt
something new from you."
On some of the very finest days, however, the doctor would wander out
again with Heidi, and then the two would sit together as on the first
day, and the child would repeat her hymns and tell the doctor things
which she alone knew. Peter sat at a little distance from them, but he
was now quite reconciled in spirit and gave vent to no angry pantomime.
September had drawn to its close, and one morning the doctor appeared
looking less cheerful than usual. It was his last day, he said, as
he must return to Frankfurt, but he was grieved at having to say
good-bye to the mountain, which had begun to feel quite like home to
him. Alm-Uncle, on his side, greatly regretted the departure of his
guest, and Heidi had been accustomed for so long to see her good friend
every day that she could hardly believe the time had suddenly come to
separate. She walked part way down the mountain with him, still unable
to grasp the idea that he was going for good. After some distance the
doctor stood still, and passing his hand over the child's curly head
said, "Now, Heidi, you must go back, and I must say good-bye! If only I
could take you with me to Frankfurt and keep you there!"
The picture of Frankfurt rose before the child's eyes, its endless rows
of houses, its hard streets, and even the vision of Miss Rottermeyer
and Tinette, and she answered hesitatingly, "I would rather that you
came back to us."
"Yes, you are right, that would be better. But now good-bye, Heidi."
The child put her hand in his and looked up at him; the kind eyes
looking down on her had tears in them. Then the doctor tore himself
away and quickly continued his descent.
Heidi remained standing without moving. The friendly eyes with the
tears in them had gone to her heart. All at once she burst into tears
and started running as fast as she could after the departing figure,
calling out in broken tones: "Doctor! doctor!"
He turned round and waited till the child reached him. The tears were
streaming down her face and she sobbed out: "I will come to Frankfurt
with you, now at once, and I will stay with you as long as you like,
only I must just run back and tell grandfather."
The doctor laid his hand on her and tried to calm her excitement.
"No, no, dear child," he said kindly, "not now; you must stay for the
present under the fir trees, you might get sick again. But if I am ever
ill and alone, will you come then and stay with me? May I know that
there would then be some one to look after me and care for me?"
"Yes, yes, I will come the very day you send for me, and I love you
nearly as much as grandfather," replied Heidi, who had not yet got over
her distress.
And so the doctor again bid her good-bye and started on his way, while
Heidi remained looking after him and waving her hand as long as a speck
of him could be seen. As the doctor turned for the last time and looked
back at the waving Heidi and the sunny mountain, he said to himself,
"It is good to be up there, good for body and soul, and a man might
learn how to be happy once more."
[Illustration]