Morva's sympathy alone seemed to have any consoling effect upon him.

She would kneel beside him with her elbows on his knees, looking up into his face, and with make-believe cheerfulness would reason with a woman's inconsequence, fearlessly deducing results from causes which had no existence.
"'Tis as plain as the sun in the sky, 'n'wncwl Ebben bach! Gethin is only gone on another voyage, and so will certainly be back here before long.

Well, you see he _must_ come, because he wouldn't like to see his old father breaking his heart--not he! We know him too well.

And then there's his best clothes in the box upstairs! And there's the corn growing so fast, he will surely be here for the harvest." She knew herself it was all nonsense, realising it sometimes with a sudden sad wistfulness; but she quickly returned to her argument again.
"Look at me now, 'n'wncwl Ebben!--Morva Lloyd, whom you saved from the waves! Would I tell you anything that was not true?
Of course, I wouldn't indeed! indeed! and I'm sure he'll come soon.

You may take my word for it they will both come back very soon.