So, when the company arrived at Beckham, Annie was still with them. No one noticed any difference in her manner from her usual rather stolid composure, when she stepped with the rest on to the platform at the station which had more than one moving memory for her, except Aubrey Cooke, who watched her narrowly, and at once decided that she had been there before. She was too wise to deny it when he asked her carelessly whether she knew the place, and then she set herself to the task of finding lodgings as near as possible to the theater. She succeeded in engaging suitable rooms in a back street within a few minutes’ walk of it; and she was growing secure in her incognito when they had played for two nights and she had seen no signs of the Mainwarings or the Braithwaites, when an incident happened which brought her into contact with the one she most dreaded to meet, with quite unforeseen consequences.
Aubrey had not yet found the golden opportunity he sought, for Annie declared that there was nothing in the least interesting to be seen in Beckham or round about it; and, the weather being wet and cold, she seized upon this excuse to decline walks with him. The third day of their stay was the fifth of November, and a friend of the manager had invited some of the members of the company to some simple festivities, which included a bonfire and fireworks, after the performance. On the same night, Miss West, the leading lady, had invited Aubrey to supper, and, on his pleading a previous engagement, she said to him with some pique and in no very subdued tones that she knew whose charms outweighed those of any society she could offer him, and warned him emphatically that the pleasures he preferred were far more dangerous than those he rejected.
“Your little prude will throw you over some fine morning when you least expect it. I know what those quiet little women do. And you won’t be able to console yourself so quickly for her defection as I can myself for yours.”
And Miss West marched away to bestow the charms of her racy speech and artistic complexion where they were better appreciated. For indeed Aubrey Cooke’s indifference to her rather overpowering fascinations had become very marked since he had found metal more attractive in Miss Langton, whose promised presence at the house he was going to visit that night had more charm for him than fireworks.
The lady and gentleman who gave this entertainment were delighted with the good nature of Mr. Cooke and the two brother-actors of his who were present, when they took the rockets and catherine-wheels out of the clumsy hands of the coachman and superintended the exhibition themselves, to the great delight of the children, who had been put to bed and then pulled out again, a few hours later to enjoy these midnight festivities. But the young men certainly condescended to enjoy themselves at least as much as the children, and Aubrey in particular fired squibs and burned his fingers and his clothes with great spirit. When at last the bonfire was lighted and the whole party jumped and whooped round it, and even the most timid were excited to stir the burning twigs with a pitchfork and then run screaming away, Aubrey had time to sneak round to Miss Langton’s side and pay her the grateful attention of putting into her hands an old garden-rake which he had hunted out on purpose for her; and they tossed the blazing boughs together; and, as the lurid light shone on her face, and she hopped about over smoldering branches and expiring squibs with the help of his friendly hand, he felt that the moment was come. In the excitement and hurly-burly which were going on around them, nobody noticed the tenderness with which he drew her back a few yards from the bonfire, on the darker side of it, when her foot turned over on a glowing twig.
“Take care; you are getting tired. You must not play any more now,” said he gently.
“Let me go back and give it just one more toss,” pleaded she earnestly but meekly. Annie had the charm of always yielding to any assumption of authority in small things very submissively.
“No, I cannot allow it. This jumping through the fire is a heathenish custom highly unbecoming in an enlightened young lady of the nineteenth century.”
“Oh, yes, it meant something, didn’t it?” cried she, interested. “The Canaanitish children were passed through the fire to propitiate Moloch. And I have heard of a lot of Irish and German superstitions about bonfires.”
“Yes, they are all about luck and love. If you want to see whether your love will be fortunate, you set a blazing hoop rolling down a hill, and, if it reaches the bottom still alight and is not caught by any obstacle, then you know she loves you back.”