Warwick Deeping

“ Pelleas, take me body and soul; take me and let me be your wife."
"How can I sin against your soul, Igraine?"
"Is it sin, then, to love me?"
"You are Gorlois's wife before God."
"There is no God."
"Igraine!"
"I will have no God but you, Pelleas."
The man took his hands from his face and looked into Igraine's eyes. A strong shudder passed over him, and he seemed like a great ship smitten by a wave, till every fibre groaned and quivered in his massive frame.
A green calm covered the valley, and the whole world seemed to faint in the golden bosom of the day. ”

“ Igraine had feared his honour. Pelleas feared for it in another sense as he looked at the woman, and felt his pity clamouring for life. He could have given his soul to comfort her if no shame could have come upon her name thereby. As it was, some spiritual hand seemed at his throat stifling aught of love that found impulse on his lips. A superhuman sincerity chilled him into silence, and held him in bondage to the truth.
A face stared up from the bracken, wan, tearless, and tragic. The wistfulness of the face made him quail within his harness. ”

“ A great calm had come upon Igraine. She was very pale and firm about the lips, and her eyes were staunch as steel. Her voice was as clear and level as though she spoke of trivial things.
"I shall not go back to Gorlois," she said.
"Beware of the man."
"Doubtless you would speak to me of a convent."
Pelleas fell into thought, with his dark eyes fixed upon her face. ”