“And what would you trade for, or with? It sounds very romantic.”
“The country is very rich in gold. Gold is found in all the rivers. But of course the gold is not to be our aim. I want, really, to found an English colony; or a colony of workers, at any rate. The Spanish colony is just a press, which squeezes the land. Now the land ought, in a sense, to squeeze the colonists. It ought to bring out all their virtues. That is what I want. The country will have to be cleared. And then we shall plant cacao, or whatever the land is fit for, and—— The scheme is thought out, in detail. I’m confident; but I won’t talk about it.”
“And the Indians will be your allies?” repeated Olivia; “and the Spaniards will probably fight you?”
“Yes,” he answered. “And you will be in a townhouse in London, going to the play, or dancing at a ball, in grey silk.”
“Blue, or grey.”
“And you will give sprigs of verbena to those who see over your garden in the country.”
“And when will you come for some?”
“Ah! I shan’t see that garden again, for a long, long time.”
“We’re going to plant all sorts of things, when we get home. You must send some roots from Darien.”
“I should like to do that. We have been such—such friends.”