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 fresh mystery, though the fable is always much the same. Well-nigh the first thing that Eva did was to ransack her husband's jewell caskets, trying on all the necklaces and brooches, and fitting her little white fingers with the finest rings she could discover, while her good man looked on, and at last pulled her on his knee and stroked her beautiful brown hair and kissed her, for he loved her better every day. And nine months after the wedding Eva gave her lord a sturdy son, who would doubtless have been like his father if he had happened to be seventy years old instead of an hour, and to have a bristling white moustache and shaggy eyebrows. It will be supposed that Sir Roger loved his wife none the worse after all his hopes were thus fulfilled, nevertheless his love was henceforth Platonicall; for he was not so strong as when he came to his estates, and had knocked about a good deal in his time. But though he was quite satisfied with one heir, Eva thought very differently on the matter, as was to be expected of a girl of eighteen, and kept exhorting her husband to the intent that it was advisable to provide Penhow with another branch, in case the first were by some misadventure to fail. And finding her admonitions, soft speeches, kisses, caresses and blandishments had no effect, only making Sir Roger look sheepish and ashamed of himself, she rang this peal in his ears all day and night, and endeavoured by every method to bring him to a sense of his duties towards her. But it was to no purpose, since the old knight could kiss her and stroke her and fondle her but nothing