The Blithedale Romance by Nathaniel Hawthorne Chapter 15 Page 20

I never said the word — and certainly can never have it to say hereafter — that cost me a thousandth part so hard an effort as did that one syllable. The heart-pang was not merely figurative, but an absolute torture of the breast. I was gazing steadfastly at Hollingsworth. It seemed to me that it struck him, too, like a bullet. A ghastly paleness — always so terrific on a swarthy face — overspread his features.

There was a convulsive movement of his throat, as if he were forcing down some words that struggled and fought for utterance. Whether words of anger, or words of grief, I cannot tell; although many and many a time I have vainly tormented myself with conjecturing which of the two they were. One other appeal to my friendship, — such as once, already, Hollingsworth had made, —