"She was," said Mr. Woodhouse, gazing into the gracious, pitiful young face uplifted to his, "a hard, scheming woman, beautiful, of course, not over young; in fact, I think she was older than he was. He, then, was considered the handsomest man in Oxford, very distinguished, you know, with his white hair and young face, all the Wycherlys go gray very early. At that time there seemed no honour in the university to which he might not aspire. He was popular in society——"
"He has the most beautiful manners," Lady Alicia remarked, laying down her knitting and preparing to enjoy herself.
"He had then. In fact, in Oxford he was looked upon as a very brilliant and rising young man; and the fact that he had some private means made it possible for him to go into Society, with a big 'S,' rather more than is usual in such cases."
"I always felt," said Lady Alicia, bridling, "that he had at some time or another belonged to the great world. But what of the lady?"
"She came down for Commemoration Week; stayed, I think, with the Dean of Christ Church, and made a dead set at Wycherly. He went down before her like a ninepin, and they were engaged, and there was 'a marriage arranged to take place,' before the week was out."
"Why didn't it take place?" asked pretty Margaret eagerly.
"Because, my dear young lady, the lady in question happened to fascinate a richer man just a week before the wedding day, and poor Wycherly discovered the whole affair in some fashion that was a very great shock to him. The only thing he was ever heard to say about it was that it hurt him rather to hear of her marriage to the other man while he was still under the impression that she was engaged to him."
"She wasn't worth grieving over," Lady Alicia cried indignantly.
"Poor Mr. Wycherly!" pretty Margaret said softly. "And he is so kind and gentle always."
"I hope her marriage turned out badly," said Lady Alicia vindictively.