“Just to help the Indians,” he answered. “The Spaniards have robbed them and ill-treated them, and I thought that if some Englishmen settled on the Isthmus, and opened up a trade with them. For you see, we could trade with both Jamaica and Virginia. And if we opened up a trade there, we could check the Spanish power there, making the Indians our allies.” “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.” “In the old days.” “Yes,” he said, rising. “Now I must be off.” “Oh, but you ought not to go yet.” “I only just came ashore to see you.” “Oh, you must stay to see my husband. He wants to see you. He’ll be so disappointed if you don’t stay to see him.” “You must make my apologies. Good-bye, Olivia.” She held out her hand without emotion of any kind. She would have shaken hands with any other acquaintance with just so little feeling. Margaret wondered what it was that would get within her guard. He took her hand. He tried hard to say no more, but failed, being sorely tempted. “God bless you,” he said. “I hope you will be very, very happy. God bless you, dear. I wonder if I shall hear of you ever. Or see you again.” “If you want to, you will,” she said simply, glad that it had gone no further. “Yes, I shall see you again,” he said. “Of course you will,” she answered. “I hope your colony will be a success.” Something in her voice made the conventional words beautiful. Captain Stukeley, on the other side of the door, hearing that quality in his wife’s voice, wished that the keyhole were bigger. With an effort, Captain Margaret rewarded that moving tone. “When I come back,” he said, “I hope that I shall get to know your husband. Make my apologies to him.” “Good-bye again,” she said.