ring eyes.
"Do you know what an awful thing I heard about that lake once?" She
stopped and shivered. "There are leeches in it--nasty, black worms--and
one of them bit my hand once. And they told me that if a person should
be drowned in Diamond Lake the leeches would--oo!--take all their blood,
and their faces would be white, and not black like other drowned people's
faces. Oh! I can't bear to think about poor Smith. If I could only write
him a note, and tell him I love him just a little! But I told Albert I
wouldn't see him nor write to him. What shall I do? He mayn't live till
morning. They say he looks broken-hearted. He'll throw himself into that
cold lake to-night, maybe--and the leeches--the black worms--oo!--or else
he'll kill himself with that ugly pistol."

It was in vain that Isabel talked to her, in vain that she tried to argue
with a cataract of feeling. It was rowing against Niagara with a
canoe-paddle. It was not wonderful, therefore, that before Albert got
back, Isa Marlay found Katy reading little notes from Westcott, notes
that ho had intrusted to one of his clerks, who was sent to the
post-office three or four times a day on various pretexts, until he
should happen to find Katy in the office. Then he would hand her the
notes. Katy did not reply. She had promised Albert she wouldn't. But
there was no harm in her reading them, just to keep Smith from drowning
himself among those black leeches in Diamond Lake.

Isabel Marlay, in her distressful sense of responsibility to Albert,
could yet find no means of breaking up this renewed communication. In
sheer desperation, she appealed to Mrs. Plausaby.

"Well, now," said that lady, sitting in state with the complacent
consciousness of a new and more stunning head-dress than usual, "I'll
tell you what it is, Isabel, I think Albert makes altogether too much
fuss over Katy's affairs. He'll break the girl's heart. He's got notions.
His father had. Deliver _me_ from notions! Just let Katy take her own
course. Marryin's a thing everybody must attend to personally for
themselves. You don't like to be meddled with, and neither does Albert.
You won't either of you marry to suit me. I have had my plans about you
and Albert. Now, Isabel, Mr. Westcott's a nice-looking man. With all his
faults he's a nice man. Cheerful and good-natured in his talk, and a good
provider. He's a store-keeper, too. It's nice to have a storekeeper for a
husband. I want Plausaby to keep store, s