The beat of a horse's hoofs aroused him, and he saw his brother approaching. To reach the house he was compelled to pass within a few feet of the hickory tree, and must inevitably discover Abner, who, however, made no effort to conceal himself. Standing in the shade of the tree as he was, Oleah did not see his brother until he was within a few feet of him, and then could not distinguish his features. "Halloo, whom have we here?" he said, reining in his horse abruptly. "Who is there? Speak quick, or it may be the worse for you," cried impetuous Oleah, not receiving an immediate answer. "It is I, Oleah," said Abner, stepping from under the branches of the old tree. The two brothers had grown more and more estranged, but as yet there had been no open rupture between them. "Well, I might inquire what you are doing there?" said Oleah. "And I might ask what you are doing here, and where you are going, and a hundred other questions. If I were to tell you I was star-gazing you would not believe me." "I don't know; I might," said Oleah. "You were sentimental at times when a boy, and the habit of looking at the moon and stars may have followed you into maturer years." "I was just thinking," said Abner, "that this tree is very old, yet very hale." "It is," answered Oleah; "it was a full grown tree when I first remember seeing it." "Yes, and we have often climbed its branches or swung beneath them." "That is all true," said Oleah, restlessly, "but why talk of that, above all other times, to-night?" "It brings pleasant memories of our happy childhood. And why not to-night as well as any other time?" said Abner. "I have reasons for not wishing to talk or to think of the past to-night," said Oleah. "I have enough to trouble me without bringing up recollections that are now anything but pleasant." "Recollections of childhood are always pleasant to me," said Abner, "and when storms of passion sway me, such thoughts calm the storm and soothe my turbulent mind once more to peace." "Have you been in a rage to-night?" asked Oleah, with a smile. "No." "Then why are you conjuring recollections of the past?" "I have not conjured them up; they come unbidden. This night, _above all others_, I would not drive the thoughts of our past away." "And why?" asked Oleah, uneasily. "Because this night we part, Oleah, perhaps forever." Oleah, rash, hot-headed, fiery Oleah, had a tender heart in his bosom, and now he was trembling with emotion, although he made an effort to appear calm. "How do you know that we are to part to-night?" he asked. "We are both going from our home, and going in different directions. We are standing on opposite sides of a gulf momentarily growing wider." A fearful suspicion crossed Oleah's mind. "Do you leave home to-night?" "Yes." "Where are you going?" "To join the army of my country and the Union."