dvantage this retaining of my copyright
in my own possession was to prove to me, financially speaking; but I am
willing to do Mr. Bentley the full justice of supposing that he foresaw
the success of the book; and that, therefore, his action in leaving me
the sole owner of my then very small literary estate redounds very much
to his credit, and is an evident proof amongst many of his manifest
honour and integrity. Of course, the copyright of an unsuccessful book
is valueless; but my 'Romance' was destined to prove a sound investment,
though I never dreamed that it would be so. Glad of my chance of
reaching the public with what I had to say, I gratefully closed with Mr.
Bentley's proposal. He considered the title 'Lifted Up' as lacking
attractiveness; it was therefore discarded, and Mr. Eric Mackay, the
poet, gave the book its present name, 'A Romance of Two Worlds.'

Once published, the career of the 'Romance' became singular, and totally
apart from that of any other so-called 'novel.' It only received four
reviews, all brief and distinctly unfavourable. The one which appeared
in the dignified _Morning Post_ is a fair sample of the rest. I keep it
by me preciously, because it serves as a wholesome tonic to my mind, and
proves to me that when a leading journal can so 'review' a book, one
need fear nothing from the literary knowledge, acumen, or discernment of
reviewers. I quote it _verbatim_: 'Miss Corelli would have been better
advised had she embodied her ridiculous ideas in a sixpenny pamphlet.
The names of Heliobas and Zara are alone sufficient indications of the
dulness of this book.' This was all. No explanation was vouchsafed as to
why my ideas were 'ridiculous,' though such explanation was justly due;
nor did the reviewer state why he (or she) found the 'names' of
characters 'sufficient indications' of dulness, a curious discovery
which I believe is unique. However, the so-called 'critique' did one
good thing; it moved me to sincere laughter, and showed me what I might
expect from the critical brethren in these days--days which can no
longer boast of a Lord Macaulay, a brilliant, if bitter, Jeffrey, or a
generous Sir Walter Scott.

[Illustration: THE DRAWING-ROOM[D]]

To resume: the four 'notices' having been grudgingly bestowed, the Press
'dropped' the 'Romance,' considering, no doubt, that it was 'quashed,'
and would die the usual death of 'women's novels,' as they are
contemptuously called, in the prescribed