There was hardly an hour in the day when Morva's song might not be heard filling the autumn air with melody, for how could she help singing as she sat knitting on the moorside while she watched the cattle, and kept them from roaming too near the edge of the cliff.
On the brow of the hill Gethin was harrowing.

His lively whistle reached her on the breeze, and she would look up at him as he passed along the skyline, and rejoice once more that he had returned to make their lives complete, to fill Ann's heart with happiness, and his father's with content; for the girl, generally so clear-sighted, so free from guile or pretence, was deceiving herself utterly, and imagined that the increased joy and glory of life which had permeated her whole being since Gethin's return, arose only from the deep interest she took in every member of the Garthowen family, and was due solely to the happiness which the return of the wanderer naturally evoked.

Was not Gethin Will's brother?
had she not every reason to be glad in his return to the old home?
her playmate, the friend of her childhood?
and she gave herself up unrestrainedly to the happiness which brooded over every hour of her life.
To Gethin, too, the world seemed to have changed to a paradise.

Every day, every hour drew him closer to Morva; in her presence he was lost in a dream of happiness, in her absence she was ever present like a golden vision in his mind.

Will's manner towards the girl being intentionally formal and distant, had completely blinded his brother to the true state of affairs, and though his daily intercourse with Morva seemed to him almost too delightful to last, he followed blindly the chain that was binding him continually more closely to her.
"Art not going to the market to-day ?" he shouted out to her one morning as he drove the horses over the moor.
"No," called Morva in return.
"Will and Gwilym Morris are gone," he shouted again, beginning his way towards her between the low gorse bushes.