“And the young tutor husband not of the nobility fell and hit his head against a rock. He was brought back insensible by an old Indian grandfather of Mrs. Lupo. The beautiful young wife only lived a few days, and when the father was better and the baby stronger the Indian took them and their belongings across the valley to Indian Head, where they have lived ever since.”
“Poor things,” exclaimed Miss Campbell. “What a pitiful, sad story!”
“And the wife’s name was Phoebe Jones?” asked Billie.
“Wrong again,” replied the doctor. “Would you have a Jones marry a Jones?”
“Then who, pray, was Miss Phoebe Jones?”
“Aunt of the Rev. Archibald. For some reason he remembered the name and I suppose gave it to the child.”
“Then who was the German gentleman who recognized Phoebe?”
“Now you are getting down to real romance,” replied the doctor.
“He was the young noble for whom the Rev. Archibald acted as tutor.” Here the doctor spoke slowly and impressively. “He loved the English governess and when she married the poor tutor, his noble heart was broken and never has been mended.”
“And he never married another?” piped up Mary’s small voice.