For I fear death while she's not safe in somebody's hands--kind, if I can get him for her.

Somebody--young or old!" The farmer lifted his head for the first time, and stared vacantly at Robert.
"I'd marry her," he said, "if I was knowing myself dying now or to-morrow morning, I'd marry her, rather than leave her alone--I'd marry her to that old man, old Gammon." The farmer pointed to the ceiling.

His sombre seriousness cloaked and carried even that suggestive indication to the possible bridegroom's age and habits, and all things associated with him, through the gates of ridicule; and there was no laughter, and no thought of it.
"It stands to reason for me to prefer a young man for her husband.

He'll farm the estate, and won't sell it; so that it goes to our blood, if not to a Fleming.

If, I mean, he's content to farm soberly, and not play Jack o' Lantern tricks across his own acres.