“Well, sir, have you found them?” asked Thomas, entering.
“No, Thomas,” replied I dolefully, “nor ever shall, I fear; but will you go to 'Dr. Mildman, and tell him, with my respects, that I cannot get up to breakfast this morning, and, if he asks what is the matter with me, say that I am prevented from coming down by severe cold. I am sure that is true enough,” added I, shivering.
“Well, sir, I will, if you wish it; but I don't exactly see the good of it; you must get up some time or other.”
“I don't know,” replied I gloomily, “we shall see; only do you take my message.”
And he accordingly left the room, muttering as he did so, “Well, I calls this a great deal too bad, and I'll tell master of it myself, if nobody else won't”.
“Tell master of it himself!”—he also suspected him then. This crushed my last faint hope that, after all, it might turn out to be only a trick of the pupils; and, overpowered by the utter vileness and depravity of him who was set in authority over me, I buried my face in the pillow, feeling a strong inclination to renew the lamentations of the preceding night. Not many minutes had elapsed when the sound of a heavy footstep slowly ascending the stairs attracted my attention. I raised my head, and beheld the benevolent countenance (for even then it certainly did wear a benevolent expression) of my wicked tutor, regarding me with a mingled look of scrutiny and pity.
“Why, Fairlegh, what's all this?—Thomas tells me you are not able to come down to breakfast; you are not ill, I hope?”
“No, sir,” replied I, “I don't think I am very ill, but I can't come down to breakfast.”
“Not ill, and yet you can't come down to breakfast! pray, what in the world prevents you?”
“Perhaps,” said I (for I was becoming angry at what I considered his unparalleled effrontery, and thought I would give him a hint that he could not deceive me so easily as he seemed to expect), “perhaps you can tell that better than I can.”