Lord Fitzbogleton was making desperate efforts to get his head out of his hat, but at present had not been successful. The broken flower-pots were strewn around in confusion, and the wreck was altogether perfectly appalling.
“For mercy’s sake, gentlemen, do tell me what is the matter,” cried Lady Marvlynn. “What dreadful accident has occurred? And my poor dear Arabella,” she murmured, as she caught sight of her protegee; “pray bring her into the house, major, and let the dear girl be attended to. Oh! merciful heaven, but this is indeed dreadful.”
Arabella Lovejoyce was carried into the house, and placed upon one of the couches, where restoratives were applied.
Lady Marvlynn returned to the conservatory.
“What is the matter?” she again cried, in a beseeching tone. “For mercy’s sake do speak, some one of you, and explain this dreadful business!”
“My dear Lady Marvlynn,” said Lord Chetwynd, “we none of us are able to explain the meaning of this disaster—for such I take it to be.”
“Will somebody help me off with this hat?” cried Lord Fitzbogleton, his voice sounding like some pantomimist behind a mask, only a little more muffled.
Two or three gentlemen hastened to the unfortunate nobleman’s assistance, and after several efforts the hat was removed.
“Now, then, we shall be able to learn something about the accident,” said Captain Crasher.
“I know nothing about it, no more than you do,” returned Fitzbogleton.