Hincks sat down to sustained applause.
“Up with Reform!” someone shouted.
“No truck with the French!” came a responsefrom near the back of the crowd.
The second nominator for Arthur Dingman nowstood up and undid most of the effectiveness of Cardiff’s speech bydroning on incoherently for fifteen minutes. Dingman himself wassquirming by the time the address staggered to its conclusion.
It was now Robert Baldwin’s turn. Theapplause was so overwhelming that he had to start several timesbefore he could actually get himself launched. He began with thecandidate himself, extolling Louis LaFontaine’s many virtues insimple and direct terms. LaFontaine was above all a leader, a manwho stuck to his principles, and one of these was a desire toestablish a form of responsible government. Moreover, he was a truereformer with a progressive economic and social policy. He wishedto cooperate with his English-speaking counterparts to help build anew society on the northern half of the continent – neither whollyBritish nor wholly American. He was a man for the future.
The applause was thunderous. And Louis stoodup amidst it, smiling.
“No truck with the French!” came a lone voicefrom the rear.
Louis spoke for twenty minutes in plain,straightforward English. He reviewed the steps by which thecoalition had been formed. He downplayed his own role in theaffair, giving Robert Baldwin much of the credit. He said howprofoundly moved he was – so soon after an armed revolt – that he,a Quebecer, could stand for election in a riding won by said RobertBaldwin, a riding which was one hundred per cent English. Hepromised to work with his English-speaking counterparts to developa just and prosperous Canada.
There were cheers and one or twocatcalls.
Arthur Dingman then got up to respond to hisnominators. He was partway through a plodding address when therewas a sudden commotion over to the side of the hustings near theverandah in front of Danby’s tavern.
“You tell ‘em, Arthur!” someone shouted.
“We don’t need the French tellin’ us what todo!”
“Down with the rebel bastards!”
“Let the man finish!”
Dingman had stopped in mid-sentence and wasstaring at the source of the interruption. Marc moved uneasily inhis chair and craned to see who was doing the shouting.
“We don’t want no Frenchman representin’ usin Kingston!”
“Shut up and let the man speak! He’syour candidate!”
A pistol shot punctuated this exchange.
“Murder!” somebody screamed, a woman’s voicefrom one of the wagons.
A scuffle now broke out near the tavern.Several clubs were abruptly produced.
“They’re armed!”
The scuffle was spreading. Fists were flying,clubs wielded. It was soon a full-scale donnybrook. Several of thecandidates’ supporters jumped up onto the platform and formed acordon around them. Marc leapt off and tried to bull his waythrough the milling throng to the site of the disturbance. He waspushed rudely aside. It was then that he noticed a man fleeingaround the far side of Danby’s Inn. Marc made it over to where hishorse was hitched, and mounted it. Behind him the riot continuedapace.
When Marc got to the other side of the inn,he saw the fleeing man clamber onto a horse and trot away down theroad towards Yonge Street. Marc gave pursuit. The fellow never onceturned to see if he were being followed, so Marc was able to getalmost upon him before his horse’s hoof-beats were heard. Thefellow swung around just in time to see Marc come up beside him andgrab his horse by the bridle. They both slowed to a stop.
“What do you think you’re doin’?” the fellowsaid. He had a shock of brown hair and a scraggly beard. His eyeswere bead-like and furtive.
“I’m interested in that pistol you’ve gottucked into your belt. I trust it’s been recently fired.”
“That ain’t none of your business. Now let mego or you’ll be sorry.”
“What’s your name?” Marc said, pulling thefellow closer.
“I don’t have to tell you nothin’. Now letgo!”
“I’ll let go when you tell me your name andadmit to firing off a pistol in order to start a riot.”
“Go to Hell!”
Marc reached over and grasped the fellow bythe collar, choking him. “Who are you?”
The beady eyes darted here and there.Gasping, the fellow said, “I’m D’Arcy Rutherford. What’s it toyou?”
“That’s all I needed to know,” Marc said, andreleased his grip.
So, Humphrey Cardiff had not kept his word.It was going to be a dirty tricks election.
FOUR
Delores slipped on her robe and followed her loverdown the dark hallway. He knew the route well by now. He paused atthe back door and she fell into his arms for one last embrace. Fora precious moment she relived the passion that had taken place inher bed a few minutes ago.
“I must go,” he said. “I’ll be missed.”
She released him reluctantly. He stepped outinto the night. She turned and made her way slowly back down thehall. The letdown she felt after each encounter had already begunto happen. Try as she might, she could not avoid it. It seemedsomehow necessary. For although she lived for these night-sessionswith her lover, she preferred, in the daylight, the company ofLionel Trueman and Horace Macy. What was wrong with her? Was shetwo women? Was it not abnormal to wish never to marry again? Yethere she was with two suitors and one lover. Certainly her fatherwas puzzled and disturbed, though he did not, and would not, knowof these late-evening assignations. Only Vera, her maid, knew ofthem, and she was discretion itself. The subterfuge was made easierby the fact that her father slept in the other side of the houseand was a notoriously sound sleeper. Vera was both shocked andfascinated by her mistress’s behaviour, but she could keep secrets.And now that John Perkins was fired and gone, Delores felt evenmore secure.
She reached her bedroom. The silk sheets,which had felt so heavenly on her bare flesh a while ago, nowlooked merely rumpled and soiled. She didn’t remove her robe, butlay down on the bed and curled up in the foetal position. She was along time going to sleep.
***
“Finish your breakfast, love,” Marjorie Snow said toher husband John. “You’re not in that much of a hurry to vote.”
“The earlier the better,” Snow said. “I’dlike to avoid the goons, if I can.”
“There hasn’t been any sign of them, hasthere?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but the poll has beenopen only two days.”
“You’re planin’ to take the buggy?”
“I could walk it, but the buggy is faster andsafer.”
“Do you really think the Reformers willstraighten out the banks, and help us out?” She poured John anothercup of tea.
“It’s our only hope. Our mortgage is due in aweek, and I’ve got to get an extension.”
“At least they can’t take the farm.”
“But they can take my cattle andequipment.”
“Perhaps if we could give them a littlemoney.”
“And where would we get it? I’ve got barelyenough crop for next year’s seed. Even five or six dollars wouldlikely satisfy the bank, but I’d have to sell a cow, and then howwould we replace it?”
“I’ve got some sewing to take to the marketon Saturday. It’ll fetch a couple of dollars.”