[Illustration: WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT TO FIND A GRECIAN GODDESS UNDER NEW ENGLAND SKIES?] And all the while――just the little time it took for the canoe to glide from the stream well into the pool――she had been regarding him tranquilly with her deep blue eyes, her bare arms, stretching downward to the grass, supporting her in an attitude suggesting recent recumbency. And now, as the craft brushed the lily-pads aside, she spoke. [Illustration] “Do you not fear the resentment of the gods?” she asked gravely. “It is not wise for a mortal to look upon us.” “I crave your mercy, O fair goddess,” he answered. “Blame rather this tiny argosy of mine which, propelled by hands invisible, has brought me hither. I doubt not that the gods hold me in enchantment.” He mentally patted himself on the back; it wasn’t so bad for an impromptu! She leaned forward and sunk her chin in the cup of one small hand, viewing him intently as though pondering his words. “It may be so,” she answered presently. “What call you your frail vessel?” “From this hour, Good Fortune.” Her gaze dropped. “Will you deign to tell me your name, O radiant goddess?” he continued. She raised her eyes again and he thought a little smile played for a moment over her red lips. “I am Clytie,” she answered, “a water-nymph. I dwell in this pool. And you, how are you called?” He answered readily and gravely: “I am Vertumnus, clad thus in mortal guise that I may gain the presence of Pomona. Long have I wooed her, O Nymph of the Pool.” “I too love unrequited,” she answered sadly. “Apollo has my heart. Though day by day I watch him drive his fiery chariot across the heavens he sees me not.” She arose and turned her face upward to the sun. Slowly she raised her white arms and stretched them forth in tragic appeal. [Illustration: SLOWLY SHE RAISED HER WHITE ARMS.] “Apollo!” she cried. “Apollo! Hear me! Clytie calls to you!” Such a passion of melancholy longing spoke in her voice that Ethan thrilled in spite of himself. Unconsciously his gaze followed hers to the blazing orb. The light dazzled his eyes and blinded him for a moment. When he looked again toward the bank it was empty, but between the trees, along the slope, a white garment fluttered and was lost to sight. [Illustration] “Clytie!” he called in sudden dismay. And again. “Clytie!” A wood-thrush in a nearby tree burst into golden melody. But Clytie answered not. III. The Roadside Inn at Riverdell sprawls its white length along the old post-road over which many years ago the coaches swayed and rattled between New York and Boston. The Roadside, known in those days as Peppit’s Tavern, has changed but little. The front room over the porch, has held notable guests: Washington, Hancock, Adams, Lafayette and many more. On the tap-room windows you may still find the diamond-etched initials of by-gone celebrities. And much of the old-time atmosphere remains. [Illustration]