"A bad decision to marry you?" Marcello asked. "What the hell gave him that idea? What did you do, tell him all the bits about how I'm going to die young or turn into a hobgoblin and not tell him any of the good parts?"

"I told him the good parts," she said defensively. "And I told him the parts about dying and turning to a hobgoblin. I told you whate'er you asked, love. And I tried not to be biased in my own favor but to be honest of all the people to whom I'd misrepresent myself if it won them to my cause, it would be you." She sighed and gestured to the letter. "I've been a bit worried that that's what the letter's all about--one last chance to talk you out of it."

Marcello sighed and put the letter down. "Then I'm not going to read it," he told her. "I know what I want, love. And I also know you well enough to know that you never represent yourself as positively as you should. You always dwell on the problems and you aren't nearly as generous and kind to yourself as you are to others."

Niabheara put her hands on his shoulders and played with his hair. "Well then it's probably a letter congratulating you on getting me into bed," she said wryly. "I just want be sure this is the best thing. I want you to be happy. Seeing you like that troubled me. You were different. You were easier with yourself. I didn't know how you could have e'er changed so much, when I was watching you all the while."

"We had a hard year," Marcello pointed out. "On a lot of fronts." He ruffled a hand in his own hair. "And I probably have even more gray hairs than I had when I came here. But tragedy is going to happen everywhere. It wouldn't be...it would be wrong, somehow, if I were easy and happy after everything that's happened."

"I thought being morose and worrying o'er things and dwelling was my job," she said, teasing. "We could try, couldn't we? Just a little?"

"Of course,"Marcello said. "I'm not unhappy, you know. I didn't think things were so bad, did you?"

"Sweetness, I always think things are worse than they are." She studied him. "Would you tell me if you were?"

"Of course," Marcello said. "I know some things were rough, but we're past that, aren't we?"

"We'd better be, otherwise we're going to have to figure out something else to tell the guests. They're starting to grow suspicious." She tugged his nose between her knuckles and smiled. "It was sort of nice to be courted all o'er again," she said wistfully.