Although Hester had achieved a part of her ambitious plans, it must not be supposed that she was either satisfied or happy. She had kicked the dust of Walton from her feet. She was in the capital, and surrounded by luxury. She had a salon to which many celebrities were visitors. But neither Sir Chetsom nor her visitors could make Gleams and Glooms popular. Not a copy was sold. Not a journal of any standing took the least notice of it. Some exaggerated criticisms, bristling with notes of admiration, and sonorous with epithets of praise, did indeed appear; but they appeared in journals of no character, and bore the evident stamp of the puff direct. She sent a copy, with a flattering letter, to every author whose name rose above the herd into some distinction. From the majority, she received no acknowledgment; from a great many came letters instantaneously acknowledging the "receipt" of the volume, but not a word on its contents; from some few poets she received general and vague flatteries, together with copies "from the authors" of their last new poems. A delicate attention, expressive of this golden rule—praise me and I'll praise you.
Having consoled herself with the conviction that the age was a prosaic age averse to poetry, she began a novel, hoping to gain celebrity by that.
In noting the latent causes of her dissatisfaction, I have said nothing of Sir Chetsom. That she was not happy, while forced to act the degrading character of mistress to such a man, will be understood; she used him as the ladder by which to ascend the height which beckoned in the distance; but she thoroughly despised him, and at times despised herself.
On the Wednesday evening chosen by Frank Forrester for the introduction of Cecil to the fair muse, Hester was looking particularly well. A flush of animation gave a tint to her cheek, and additional fire to her dark eyes. In her raven hair a string of costly pearls were woven; large glittering bracelets encircled her well-shaped arms; and a black velvet dress set off to perfection her handsome bust, which was lavishly displayed. She was seated on the sofa propounding some humanitarian doctrine, when the four were announced. She rose graciously. Tom Chetsom apologized for the liberty he had taken in bringing Mr. Chamberlayne, who was very desirous of the honour, &c.
"Any friend of yours will always be welcome, Mr. Chetsom," she said, smiling, "and Mr. Chamberlayne particularly so. I have often heard his name, and always accompanied by some flattering epithet."
Cecil bowed.
Frank then presented Hudson, and Cecil noticed, that although she also received him with a gracious smile, there was a marked difference in her manner. Strange animals that we are! this flattered him exceedingly.
The rooms were full; and conversation was lively in groups. It was a curious assembly when the details were examined, and had little of that éclat which Hester had imagined in her dreams. The men for the most part were neither young nor aristocratic; they were—at least some of them—not positively unknown to fame; small reputations, current only in literary circles—scarcely heard beyond those circles; men of talent, men of worth, men of energy and of ambition, but scarcely at ease in society. Mixed with these were a few of Sir Chetsom's club-men, a few harmless respectabilities, and a few—very few women.
One of these women was requested to oblige with one of her charming performances, and her harp was wheeled into the centre of the room. It is one of the penalties attached to the condition of such women as Hester, that if their dear female friends have any little accomplishment, they must be implored to exhibit it. In any other society, Miss Blundell would no more have been asked to perform, than Gunter's waiters would be asked to dance. But to secure Miss Blundell, Hester could not avoid inviting her to play. If Hester wanted countenance, Miss Blundell wanted admiration. And it was really comic to see the mistress of the house threading the crowd of visitors, and entreating their attention to the fantasia with which Miss Blundell was about to favour them.
The hubbub of conversation was almost stilled, and Miss Blundell advanced to take possession of her harp.