It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. They were just nice. " "Whom do you mean?" demanded Jackson. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm.
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