Johanna Spyri - Heidi

His words sobered her for a time, for they brought home to her afresh that Grannie’s eyes were always veiled so that she could never see the sunlight, nor any of the beauties of the mountains. ‘Yes, I understand,’ she replied then. ‘Perhaps it would help to hear one of Grannie’s hymns. She says they bring her back the light.’

‘What hymns do you know?’

‘I only remember the one about the sun, and part of another long one, which Grannie likes very much. I always have to read the verses three times over to her.’

‘Let me hear them now,’ said the doctor, settling himself against a boulder and preparing to listen.

Heidi clasped her hands and asked, ‘Shall I begin with the verse Grannie likes so much because it gives her fresh hope?’ He nodded, and she began,

Heidi stopped for she was not sure that the doctor was listening. He had covered his eyes with his hand and sat very still. She half thought he might have fallen asleep, and decided that if he wanted to hear any more, he would ask her to go on when he woke up. He was not asleep, however, only lost in thought. The hymn had taken him right back to when he was a little boy and stood beside his mother’s chair, listening to those same words, and he saw again how fondly her eyes rested on him, and he heard her voice, speaking so gently. These pleasant memories held him for a long time, and when at last he looked up, there were Heidi’s big eyes watching him thoughtfully. He patted her hand and said quite cheerfully:

‘That was very nice, Heidi. We’ll come up here again and you shall tell me some more.’

All this had not been at all to Peter’s liking. This was the first time for weeks that Heidi had come up with him, and now she went and sat all the time with the doctor, and never even looked his way. He kicked the turf and scowled, but neither of them saw him. He even went and shook his fists close behind the doctor’s back, but that went unseen also. As the sun came round to midday and the time for eating, he shouted loudly at them, ‘Dinner time!’

Heidi stood up then, meaning to bring the doctor’s share over to him, but he told her he was not hungry and would like only a little milk, and then he was going a little higher up the mountain. At that Heidi decided that she was not hungry either, and would also have only milk. She thought she would like to show the doctor the place where Finch had nearly fallen down the ravine and where there were so many tasty herbs for the goats. So she asked Peter just to get milk from Daisy for the doctor and herself.

‘Only milk? What about all the food in the bag?’ he asked in astonishment.

‘You can have it, as soon as you’ve got the milk.’

He had rarely done as he was asked so promptly. He was longing to know what had made the bag so heavy that morning, and as soon as Heidi had taken the milk, he opened it and peeped inside. When he saw the meat he could hardly believe his eyes. He was just taking hold of it, when he remembered how angrily he had shaken his fists at the doctor, for whom this treat had really been provided. He felt sorry about that, and it somehow held him back. So after a moment he jumped up and ran over to the place where he had stood before, stretched up his arms with hands open to show that he did not want to fight anyone any more, and he kept them like that until he felt he had made amends. Then back he went to his feast and began to eat with a clear conscience.

Heidi and the doctor went on up the mountain, talking as they went. After a while he told her that he was going back, but that she no doubt would like to stay a little longer with the goats. This she would not hear of, but insisted on accompanying him at least as far as the hut, perhaps even farther. So down they went, hand in hand, and on the way she showed him all the goats’ favourite grazing places and where the best flowers grew in summer. She could tell him the names of many, for her grandfather had taught her them. At last the doctor said she must go back, so they said goodbye and he went on alone. He looked back from time to time, and found her watching and waving to him, as his own dear daughter used to do when he went out.

The weather was fine and sunny all that month, and the doctor came up to the hut every morning, and from there went off on long walks, often with Uncle Alp as his companion. Together they climbed high up where the grand old fir trees were storm‐tossed, and higher still to where the hawk nested. They saw the great bird rise up, protesting, at their intrusion. The doctor found great pleasure in Uncle Alp’s society, and was constantly surprised at his wide knowledge of mountain plants and their uses. Uncle Alp showed him little crevices where, even at those heights, tiny plants grew and blossomed. He also knew a great deal about the wild life up there and had many good stories to tell about the creatures which lived in caves or holes in the ground or even in the branches of the trees. As the doctor took his leave after one of these expeditions, he said, ‘My friend, I learn something new every time I am with you.’

Several times, when the weather was particularly fine, the doctor went up to the pasture with Heidi, and they always rested at the same spot, while she chattered away or recited the verses she had learnt by heart. Peter never joined them, but he was quite resigned now to the loss of her company and no longer bore the doctor any ill will.

With the last day of September, the holiday came to an end. On the day before his return to Frankfurt, the doctor appeared at the hut looking rather sad. He was very sorry to go for he had felt at home on the mountains. Uncle Alp was going to miss him too, and Heidi had grown so accustomed to seeing him every day that she could hardly believe that those pleasant times were nearly over. After he and Uncle Alp had said goodbye, she went a little way down the mountain with him, but when he thought she had come far enough, the doctor stopped and gently stroked her hair.

‘Now I have to go, Heidi,’ he said, ‘but I wish I could take you back with me to Frankfurt.’

Heidi suddenly beheld, in her mind’s eye, that town with its many tall houses and cobbled streets, and thought of Miss Rottenmeier and Tinette. ‘It would be nicer if you came back to us,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Yes, you are right,’ he agreed, ‘quite right. Goodbye, my dear.’

As she gave him her hand, she thought there were tears in his kind eyes, then he turned quickly and hurried away. Heidi stood looking after him, feeling very miserable, and after a few moments ran pell‐mell after him, crying, ‘Doctor, doctor.’ He turned as he heard her, and when she reached him, she sobbed out:

‘I will come with you to Frankfurt and stay with you as long as you like, but I must go and tell Grandfather first.’

The doctor laid his hand on her shoulder to calm her. ‘No, no,’ he said, ‘you must stay here among the fir trees for the present, or I might have you ill again. But I tell you what, perhaps you’ll come and take care of me if I’m ever ill and lonely. I should like to think I could have someone who loves me to look after me then.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ll come at once, the moment you send for me,’ Heidi promised eagerly. ‘And I love you nearly as much as Grandfather.’

He thanked her and went on his way again, while she stood and waved till all she could see was a speck in the distance. As he turned for the last time to wave back, he thought to himself. ‘This is certainly a wonderful place for sick minds as well as bodies. Life seems really worth living again!’