Rety, as is usually the case with weak men, was by no means fond of the person who reigned over him; the coldness of years ripened into hate. He was estranged from his old friends; scorned, and perhaps hated, by his own children; he was exposed to danger and infamy, and all for her sake. He could not pardon his own weakness, but he hated her the more cordially; a feeling which she returned with interest. This distracting position was still heightened by the contents of a letter which the sheriff took up at times, and threw down again, to stamp the floor and ponder on certain points which seemed to move his feelings. That letter, which was in Vandory's handwriting, was to the following purpose:—
"My dear Brother,
"You know that I am not in the habit of using this name too often. I loved it once; but I have dropped it since I saw that it would hurt your interests. I am your brother, but I have never claimed other rights than those your heart gave me; and if I now remind you of the bonds which unite us, it is to recall you from the path which leads to certain ruin.
"Samuel, you are on the brink of an abyss. The very next step you take will decide your fate for ever. If you proceed in your career, you are given over to evil. Your honour, now jeopardised, is irretrievably lost. There are crimes which defy all repentance. Consider, my brother, whether worldly honours and riches can repay you for peace on earth and for the loss of your hopes of heaven!
"There was a time in which you professed friendship for Tengelyi; but let that pass. You thought proper to sacrifice his friendship to the cravings of your ambition. I leave it to your heart to decide whether you were right or wrong. But even if Tengelyi had never been your friend, you ought to feel for his situation. You are convinced of his innocence; you know the circumstances to which he fell a victim; you know the authors of his misfortunes; and you know those who accuse him because they wish to hide their own misdeeds. Will you suffer him to fall a prey to his enemies? Will you plunge his family in misery and ruin? I never thought that I should have to raise my voice in a case in which duty speaks so clearly. I was convinced that you, who bear so great a share in Tengelyi's misfortunes, would strain every nerve to save him. I was mistaken. The entreaties of your own son could not prevail upon you even to alleviate the sorrows of this ruined family. All that is now left to me is to remind you of your promise to me; and, though reluctantly, I must also remind you of the obligations which, according to your own words, you are under to me.
"Yes, Samuel; a review of the past will convince you that I was always a faithful brother to you: that, for your sake, I sacrificed what mankind prize as most high and valuable; and that I have a claim upon your gratitude.
"I was a child when my mother died, but I was old enough to become conscious of the change in my life when our father married for the second time. Your mother was the bane of my childhood. Before she was a mother she hated me, because I reminded her of what she longed for; and when you were born, she feared lest I should share our father's property with you. Everybody pitied me, and there were some people who wished me to hate you. But I loved you. I loved to embrace you; to hear you speak, and to teach you my childish games. I was neglected, hated, and persecuted; but I had a brother, and I hoped to be happy when he came to be a man. My childhood was so utterly wretched, that my hopes had nothing but the distant future, and the older I grew, the more insupportable became my condition. You say my father loved me. He never showed it. The slightest mark of kindness from him would have prevented me from quitting his roof as I did. My departure from home was covered by a distant relation of my mother's, who found the means and the passports for a journey to a foreign country. He supported me during the first years of my voluntary exile. At the end of three years he died. Death surprised him with such awful rapidity, that no time was left to inform his friends of my whereabouts, or to provide for me in his will, and I found myself, at the commencement of my studies at Göttingen, thrown upon my own resources, and, though not friendless on foreign soil, I felt homesick. But I had no faith in my father's affection, and I conquered that feeling. My poverty could not shake my resolution. I worked for my living, and was happy and proud that I could support myself. I lived thus for more than ten years. My longings for my country passed away. I all but forgot my mother's language; and when I passed my examinations and took my degrees, I felt as a native of the foreign land in which I lived. It was at this time I saw your name in the lists of the University of Heidelberg. I left Göttingen, and hastened to meet you.
"I write this, not to reproach you. If I was useful to you, your presence was a source of happiness to me. What I wish is, to remind you of those happy days, of those days when there were no secrets between us; when it was as unlikely that I should ask for any thing that could give you pain, as that you should refuse to comply with any of my requests.
"No one knew of our consanguinity, and many people wondered at our friendship; I was so much older than you. Even Tengelyi could never suspect that we were brothers. We agreed to return together to my father's house, and to ask his pardon for my rash and injudicious step.
"Heaven would have it otherwise. You knew the woman whose love caused me to forget all other ties, and to make her country mine. I knew my father was proud. I knew that my chosen wife would be a source of annoyance and sorrow to him. He could never be reconciled to the marriage of his son with the daughter of an artisan; and you, too, advised me to take the place which at that time was offered to me, and to remain in Germany.