--Mordecai had taken a step nearer as he spoke, and now laid his hand on Deronda's arm with a tight grasp; his face little more than a foot off had something like a pale flame in it--an intensity of reliance that acted as a peremptory claim, while he went on--"You will be my life: it will be planted afresh; it will grow. 
Mordecai moved nearer as he spoke, and laid his hand on Deronda's arm with a tight grasp; his face shone like a pale flame, while he went on- "You will be my life: it will be planted afresh; it will grow. 