He was well known to most of those present, and, as a natural consequence, he was loudly cheered. He bowed, and then sat down to the piano. He played a difficult piece by Mendelssohn in a masterly manner. It was too long to encore, so they contented themselves with applauding it. The performer still retained his position at the instrument. A group of choristers entered. These were composed of boys and adults. They sang a selection from the “Messiah” in a way which appeared to give great satisfaction, some portions of it being encored. Two other performers now made their appearance, the first being Charles Peace, the other a tall gentleman, whose name was not announced; he, however, bore in his hands a bass viol. Two chairs were brought forward in close proximity with the piano, and on these the musicians sat. After the usual formula of scraping and twanging the strings, one of Beethoven’s magnificent symphonies was attacked――to use a newspaper phrase. It was played with great feeling, being, in fact, a gem to those who could appreciate first-class music. It was re-demanded. “That was well played――was it not, sir?” said Bessie, to the gentleman. “Oh, dear, yes; highly creditable to all three of the performers―― exceedingly good!” While this had been going on, Peace appeared to be a little disconcerted. Despite the encore, he arose from his seat, and was about to make a precipitate retreat; but Mr. Knight signified by a movement of his hand and head that the symphony was to be repeated. Notwithstanding this, Peace still hesitated. At length he returned to his seat. Many persons attributed his manner to timidity, and the tender-hearted gave him a vociferous round of applause by way of encouragement. They were, however, quite mistaken in their surmise. Timidity was not one of Peace’s characteristics. There was another and more potent reason for his trepidation. It was this. In one of the side boxes sat an elderly gentleman and a young lady. The features of the last-named were familiar to the violinist. She was the beautiful and ravishing creature whom he had seen slumbering at the millionaire’s house on the night of the burglary. She was within a few paces of him, being in one of the lower boxes, and she looked the very personification of female loveliness. Peace was bewildered. He did play his part in the symphony, and he played it well, but it was a desperate struggle to get through it. Any other man placed in a similar position must certainly have broken down. 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.