"Yes, I'm afraid there will be trouble between Bengal and Miss Peckham,"
echoed Gladys, "and we'll be constantly called upon to make peace. It's
a role I'm not anxious for."

"Let's not worry about it beforehand," said Migwan, charmed into a
blissful attitude of mind toward the whole world by the sheer beauty of
the scene that unrolled before her. The river, tinged by the long rays
of the late afternoon sun, gleamed like a river of living gold, blinding
her eyes and setting her to dreaming of magic seas and far countries.
She stood very still for many minutes, lost in golden fancies, until
Gladys took her gently by the arm.

"Come, Migwan, are you going to day-dream here forever? There is the
spring we are looking for, just at the end of that little path."

Migwan came slowly out of her reverie and followed Gladys down the hill
to the spring.

"It's all so beautiful," she sighed in ecstasy, turning to look back
once more at the shimmering water, "it just makes me _ache_. It makes
everything unworthy in me want to crawl away and lose itself, while
everything good in me wants to sing. Don't you feel that way about it,
too?"

"Something like that," replied Gladys softly. "When Nature is so lovely,
it makes me want to be lovely, too, to match. I don't see how anyone
could ever be angry here, or selfish, or mean. It's just like being made
over, with all the bad left out."