And as it was Peace was very nearly doing so.
He would have given anything he was possessed of to have been spared this trial, for most assuredly it was the greatest trial he had as yet experienced.
He had in a measure recovered his confidence when the symphony was given for the second time; nevertheless he kept casting furtive glances in the direction of the box in which the young lady was seated.
The performers bowed and retired.
“Three pieces have been successfully got through, and as yet there has been no apology,” said a young man behind Bessie and her companion.
“What do you mean?” observed another of the audience.
“Why, only this—that in entertainments of this sort, where amateurs are to appear, there is generally some hitch, some mistake, and as a natural consequence an apology has to be made.”
“Oh, no doubt we shall have one before the evening is over.”
A young lady was now led on by the director. She had a piece of music in her hand, which shook and trembled like an aspen bough agitated by a passing breeze.
It was painfully evident that she was nervous, and those who have experienced that sensation upon facing an audience for the first time will, I am sure, pity her.