"The guilty man had polluted the pure water.

The nymph might have comforted him in sorrow, but could not cleanse his conscience of a crime." "And did he never behold her more ?" asked Kenyon.
"Never but once," replied his friend.

"He never beheld her blessed face but once again, and then there was a blood-stain on the poor nymph's brow; it was the stain his guilt had left in the fountain where he tried to wash it off.

He mourned for her his whole life long, and employed the best sculptor of the time to carve this statue of the nymph from his description of her aspect.

But, though my ancestor would fain have had the image wear her happiest look, the artist, unlike yourself, was so impressed with the mournfulness of the story, that, in spite of his best efforts, he made her forlorn, and forever weeping, as you see!" Kenyon found a certain charm in this simple legend.