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'Ha! cried Jeremy Stickles, laughing at the redness of my face 'Lorna, saidst thou; now what Lorna? Is it the name of a maiden, or a light-o'-love?

A man of letters who would parody his early style is no better than the ancient light-o'-love who wears a wig and reddens her cheeks. I must turn to the book to see how far this is true.

"You were spared a bad thing, lad: the child was that grand painter's light-o'-love, that is plain to see. The mischief all comes of the stuff old Antoine filled her head with a stray little by-blow of chickweed that he cockered up like a rare carnation. Oh! do not fly in a rage, Jeannot; the child is no good, and would have made an honest man rue.

The draft is bad, and, moreover, we should have secrecy." He obeyed her, and she led him still further from the thought of investigating his surroundings. "Now, my lord," she said, "take back what you have just said!" "Under penalty?" he sneered. "Of your life, yes." "So!" he grunted admiringly; "well, now, I like fire in a woman, even a deceiving light-o'-love like you!"

Come, come, Lady Light-o'-Love if you mean to make your way with me, it must be by plain facts, not by speeches from romaunts and play-books. How, in Heaven's name, came you here?" "Sir," answered Margaret, "since I must speak, I went to Greenwich this morning with Monna Paula, to present a petition to the king on the part of the Lady Hermione."

"Even though I beseech you on my knees?" "'Twere vain, I sail hence alone." "You were wiser to seek my love than my hate." "But I was ever a fool." "Aye, verily!" she cried passionately. "So do you yearn ever for your light-o'-love, for your vanished Joan your Damaris that left you " "Now I pray you go!" said I. "I wonder," sighed she, never stirring, "I wonder why I do not kill you?

She did not even pay me the compliment of quickening her pace; though the rainy afternoon had served for an excuse. So Kitty and her companion, and I and my ghostly Light-o'-Love, crept round Jakko in couples. The road was streaming with water; the pines dripped like roof-pipes on the rocks below, and the air was full of fine, driving rain.

She did not even pay me the compliment of quickening her pace; though the rainy afternoon had served for an excuse. So Kitty and her companion, and I and my ghostly Light-o'-Love, crept round Jakko in couples. The road was streaming with water; the pines dripped like roof-pipes on the rocks below, and the air was full of fine, driving rain.

At the first pinch his boasted mighty love had broken down; and, beneath all the disguises, it was such a contemptible little pinch at that, only that he was afraid of what people might say about her. Now he stepped the beaches of France, a squire of dames unconcerned. Should she wear her heart in mourning for a light-o'-love and a jilt? She would not. She would not....

Her mother, Marie Touchet, had been "light-o'-love" to Charles IX.; her father was the Seigneur d'Entragues, member of one of the most blue-blooded families of France, a soldier and statesman of fame; and their daughter had inherited, with her mother's beauty and grace, the clever brain and diplomatic skill of her father.