that day at least, more especially as Venus seemed to
have taken a fancy to the lad--so his expulsion was postponed to another
season; and before that season arrived, poor Jesse had secured the
goodwill of an advocate far more powerful than Venus--an advocate who,
contrasted with himself, looked like Ariel by the side of Caliban, or
Titania watching over Bottom the Weaver.

John Cobham had married late in life, and had been left, after seven
years of happy wedlock, a widower with five children. In his family
he may be said to have been singularly fortunate, and singularly
unfortunate. Promising in no common degree, his sons and daughters,
inheriting their mother's fragile constitution as well as her amiable
character, fell victims one after another to the flattering and fatal
disease which had carried her off in the prime of life; one of them
only, the eldest son, leaving any issue; and his little girl, an orphan,
(for her mother had died in bringing her into the world,) was now the
only hope and comfort of her doting grandfather, and of a maiden sister
who lived with him as housekeeper, and, having officiated as head-nurse
in a nobleman's family, was well calculated to bring up a delicate
child.

And delicate in all that the word conveys of beauty--delicate as the
Virgins of Guido, or the Angels of Correggio, as the valley lily or the
maiden rose--was at eight years old, the little charmer, Phoebe Cobham.
But it was a delicacy so blended with activity and power, so light and
airy, and buoyant and spirited, that the admiration which it awakened
was wholly unmingled with fear. Fair, blooming, polished, and pure, her
complexion had at once the colouring and the texture of a flower-leaf;
and her regular and lovely features--the red smiling lips, the
clear blue eyes, the curling golden hair, and the round yet slender
figure--formed a most rare combination of childish beauty. The
expression, too, at once gentle and lively, the sweet and joyous temper,
the quick intellect, and the affectionate heart, rendered little Phoebe
one of the most attractive children that the imagination can picture.
Her grandfather idolised her; taking her with him in his walks, never
weary of carrying her when her own little feet were tired--and it was
wonderful how many miles those tiny feet, aided by the gay and buoyant
spirit, would compass in the course of the day; and so bent upon keeping
her constantly with him, and constantly in the open ai