all Canadians to come to his assistance:
We have at last been successful in planting the standard of liberty in one part of our oppressed country. Canadians! Come to our assistance as you prize property, happiness and life! This is the hour of your redemption. Rally to the standard of the Free and the tyranny of England will cease to exist in our land.
Far from rising, the countryside received this proclamation with disdain.
The Niagara Reporter summed up the local reaction in an editorial that called the invaders “vagabonds without name or nation” and labelled the enterprise “madness.”
“We believe no individual dotard since the days of the first idiot ever exhibited such unutterable folly,” they wrote.
Folly or not, the vagabonds were in Canada for ten days before Governor Arthur finally sent a troop of Queen’s Lancers to deal with them. Surprised at Osterhout’s Inn, the Lancers were forced to surrender when the patriots set fire to the building, and were afterward relieved of their uniforms and equipment, much to the embarrassment of the governor.
No one was sure how many “patriots” were in Morreau’s band.
“I heard there were hundreds,” Mrs. Varney said. “Do you suppose they’ll march this way next?”
“Nay, mother,” Varney replied. “It won’t be that bunch, but some other.”
Frustrated by the Lancers’ lack of success, Governor Arthur finally set the militia and their Indian hunters loose on the area.
“That’s what he should have done in the first place,” Simms said. “If anybody can catch traitors, it’s the boys that know the country.” The militia had proved themselves in this sort of enterprise before. It had been militia and Indians, with red flannel strips sewn into their caps for identification, who had ruthlessly hunted down Mackenzie’s rebels. In any event, a mere rumour that the Indians were coming was enough to panic the patriots. They fled toward the border, strewing abandoned ammunition and equipment behind them. In spite of their haste, not all of them made it to safety, and now more than forty were in jail at Niagara or Toronto, Simms wasn’t sure which, since he had heard reports of both. Their trials were to be held immediately.
Lewis was irritated and depressed by this news. More trials, more punishment, and he was sure the government would use this latest incident as an excuse for another round of persecution against anyone with Reformer leanings. He sometimes wondered what would have happened had last year’s rebellion been led by someone other than the quixotic, impulsive Mackenzie, who was a dab hand with rhetoric but completely incapable of organizing a military expedition. It was a musing he dared not share with anyone but Betsy. He was sailing close enough to the wind as it was, just by being a Methodist.
Minta came to the next women’s class meeting with her infant in her arms. The other women made much of her, cooing over the baby and declaring it to be the finest boy anyone had ever produced. Again Lewis noticed that smugness about her whenever her child was discussed, and her evident joy would briefly light her pale, tired face.
In mid-flight, he decided to change the topic of his sermon. He had been intending to base it on Jesus’ admonition to “render unto Caesar,” as it seemed to be so appropriate in light of the recent upheavals, but instead he spoke to the women on the subject of rebirth. It seemed to fit the occasion, with a nod to Minta’s boy and the hope that Rachel had been reborn in the Lord.
Afterward, the women spent a little more time admiring the baby, but when they started to file out, Minta hung back.
“I’d hoped to speak with you privately,” she said.
“Of course,” he said, smiling. He was really growing very fond of this small quiet woman.
“There’s something I feel I need to say, but I don’t know who else to say it to.”
He waited silently until she was ready to tell him.
“It concerns the night that Henry was born. Seth was there right afterward, and I remember him picking up the boy and looking at him. I was afraid he would hurt it, he’s so big and the baby was so tiny.”
Lewis nodded. There was a good reason men were generally kept out of the childbirth business. It was a delicate affair and they were seldom as careful as the women would like.
“I fell asleep after that, but my mother tells me that Seth went out. He said he was going to tell the whole neighbourhood that he had a son.”
This was undoubtedly a euphemism for going to the tavern and getting rip-roaring drunk, Lewis thought. It was the way these things usually went.
But Minta’s face was troubled as she went on. “He wasn’t there in the morning when I woke up, and he hadn’t been there all night. He finally came in near noon and Mother asked him where he’d been. He said he went to sit down by the bay for a while and fell asleep.
“Had he been drinking, do you think?”
“I don’t think so. He never drinks. The thing is,” she went on, “I don’t know for sure where he was or what he was doing. And then when Rachel was found, and the constable asked us about Seth’s whereabouts that night, we all lied. We said he’d been with us.” She began to weep a little. “I don’t even know what I’m suggesting, Mr. Lewis. I don’t see how Seth could have had anything to do with Rachel’s death, so it’s not as if we were protecting him that way or anything. I don’t even know why I said what I said. It just seemed easier at the time, but now it lies sorely on my heart. Please tell me what I should do.”
Lewis thought for a moment. A night and half a day would have been ample time for the burly blacksmith to ride from his in-laws’ house to Demorestville and back. The question, as Minta realized, was why on earth would he? There was no reason for Seth to do anything to Rachel. Quite the opposite: he and Minta would have been counting on her to help with the child.
Finally he said, “You’ve confessed to me now, and the Lord will take that into consideration. Rest easy and leave this with me. I agree that it’s unlikely that Seth had any hand in Rachel’s death, and there certainly is no point telling the authorities. They won’t do anything anyway, now that the coroner’s jury has ruled.”
The woman looked relieved.
“Just one thing, Minta. When Rachel was found she had a book in her lap. Do you know what became of it?”
She looked confused. “Oh, I’m not sure. It might still be at the house. I don’t think anyone took it away.”
“Do you think you could find it for me?”
“Yes, of course. But why do you want it?”
“I just want to look at it, that’s all. And then I’ll return it to you. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for, but you’ve presented me with a bit of a puzzlement, and I’d like to resolve it if I can. At the very least, it would help you set your mind at rest.” Another misdirection. They were piling up on him, lie upon lie. He could hardly take Minta to task for the same transgression.
The Jessup’s rented house was tiny, just two rooms, but in perfect order and as clean a place as Lewis had ever seen. Constable Woodcock said that Rachel had gone to bed fully dressed, with even her boots on. Seeing the immaculate condition of Minta’s kitchen, he thought it improbable that anyone within her influence
