He had never seen the man yet worthy of being the husband of his daughter, and Simon Nixey was not much to his mind.

Still, he was a kind-hearted man, and well-to-do for his station; he kept a servant to wait on his mother, and he would do no less for his wife.

Phebe would not be left desolate if she could make up her mind to marry him.

But with a deep instinctive jealousy, born of his absolute separation from his kind, he could not bear the thought of sharing her love with any one.

She must continue to be all his own for the little time he had to live.
"If Phebe likes to marry him when I'm gone, I've no objection," he wrote, and then, with a feeling of irritation and bitterness, he rubbed out the words with the palm of his hand and turned his back upon Mrs.
Nixey..