The Weekly Washington telegraph., 1871-07-19

the experience and knowledge of ma
tLrer years, we look back ON those
days.
Oh, Nellie Dee! Of all the moonlit
ewes I've seen since then, boating or
yachting on mooulit waters, with fair
ladies for company, or flirting with
giddy bellies, and talking soft nonsense
beneath moon haunted trees, none have
ever been to me like those of long ago.
The summer went away, and reluct
antly | left the pleasant place and
the friends who had grown so dear
10 me.
Good by, Nellie dear" | said,
"until | return again;' and saw her
sweet face watching me MS | walked
down the road, upon which l never,
alas! retraced my steps.
thought Of her constantly, at first,
but youth is variable, and easily indu-
enced. | was proud and ambitious,
and determined to win name and Il
place in the world. My associates
were older and more worldly than |;
they introduced me into society; and
for awhile | was dazzled and fascinated.
Poor Nellie! gave but little thought
to her; my letters became fever and
shorter; she felt my GOODNESS, and our
correspondence ceased. | am a sue.
cesslul man as the world goes. Some
call me cold and cynical; perhaps | am.
! | have seen below the surface, and am
no longer dazed and blinded. Some
times Nellie's sweet face has come up
before me, bringing with it 4 vague
sense Of pain and regret, but ! laughed
it away rs boys idle fancy.
a few summers ago | was at Rugby
Mr. and Mrs. Dee were sleeping to-
gcthcr in the village cemetery, ant
Nellie, was told, had gone to somc
relatives in the north. | wonder il
should have been happier with he
than ! am now, and if she has quit
r forgotten me. 'Tis fifteen years now
q she may be married or dead, and l.
| pshaw! what foolish vagaries Tn
? notes of a gay waltz float in to me
+; there are smiling lips and bright eye
, next door, and | know some of then
r will brighten and smile at my coming
for am a fortunate man; fair daugh
, ters are gracious to me, ana mamma.
| approve.
/ | have seen her once more. | wa:
/ thinking of her to,night, with an inten
a sity of which | seldom indulge, and
she is here-herc, in her raie loveliness;
f but my Nellie Dee no longer.
a was standing near an open French
c window tonight, looking at the bril-
liant dancers, when Fitz Henry, who
; stood by me, suddenly asked, "Whc
y is that beautiful woman?"
Y (Which oney" inquired.
t "She is coming this way; a new ar
y rival, probably; I've not seen heI
n before
;, The lady, escorted by a handsome
r locking gentleman, canrc and took ;
d chair near me, aud her companion lci
!, her. She turned her face toward me
e how strangely familiar it seemed
y Surely / knew those pure, clear-cu
d features.
Y "Nellie! Nellie Dee!" came from
y my lips, mechanically.
It She heard me, and turned. Their
1t was for one moment surprised lool
e in her face; then she called me b
+ name, and gave me her hand. NJ
e heart angered me with its loud tbrol
p bing, but | rcpressed my enc tio
n eliectualIy, and my face betrayed no
P thing. And she-she is a polishe
=, woman of the world, and greeted m
l. with a gracious courtesy. Our con
}, versation was the commonplace {
' acquaintance, with no allusion TO th
past. Has she forgotten it? Wa
that queenly, elegant woman, tb
e tender, impulsiyc giil that watched m
C departure with quiyoring lip and teal
b fuI eyes? Her escort returned.
- "My husband" she said, introducin