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That was my fault, said one half of Lily’s mind as Gróin said good night and left for his room. Nevertheless, she was puzzled; she had been completely genuine in her offer of help, but now Gróin seemed determined to simply ignore whatever it was that had gotten him in such a fright. Strange fellow, that one. Not unpleasant, but strange.
“I hope it wasn’t me that put him off,” Lily said to Posco. “He doesn’t think highly enough of himself and wouldn’t ever bother anyone with himself. But I suspect it was just that; a noise in the hallway that frightened him. If it really is something, I suppose we’ll hear more of it. I do hope he finds the one he’s looking for, though.” An awkward silence settled over the table. There seemed to be so many things she ought to say and no good way to say them. “It’s horrible to think you might not, you know… find the one you’re looking for, that is.” Yes, he ought to know. “For if you had no confidence in me, I had none in you, either. You see, when I was riding through Buckland, there was some lad there who told me you had come here to find your bride, and I thought you had come here for someone else.” It sounded absurd now, sitting with him here, but still she could not forget the horrible feelings of her ride here. But it would be all right. He still loved her… and it would be all right. Finally, something about this day made sense.
“And now perhaps we can both start fresh…”
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