HAVERILL.  Constance, my dear, I’ve been all over the place looking for you.  I thought you were in your room.  But—­by the way, Kerchival, this is your handkerchief; your initials are on it. [KERCHIVAL turns and stares at him a second.  MRS. HAVERILL starts slightly and turns front.  HAVERILL glances quickly from one to the other, then extends his hands toward KERCHIVAL, with the handkerchief.  KERCHIVAL takes it.  MRS. HAVERILL drops into chair.

KERCHIVAL.  Thank you. [He exits with a quick glance back. HAVERILL looks at MRS. HAVERILL, who sits nervously looking away.  He then glances after KERCHIVAL. A cloud comes over his face, and he stands a second in thought.  Then, with a movement as if brushing away a passing suspicion, he smiles pleasantly and approaches MRS. HAVERILL; leans over her.

HAVERILL.  My fair Desdemona! [Smiling.] I found Cassio’s handkerchief in your room.  Have you a kiss for me? [She looks up; he raises her chin with a finger and kisses her.] That’s the way I shall smother you.

MRS. HAVERILL. [Rising and dropping her head upon his breast.] Husband!

HAVERILL.  But what is this they have been telling me?

MRS. HAVERILL.  What have they said to you?

HAVERILL.  There was something wrong with you in the early part of the evening; you are trembling and excited, my girl!

MRS. HAVERILL.  It was nothing, John; I—­I—­was ill, for a few moments, but I am well now.

HAVERILL.  You said nothing about it to me.

MRS. HAVERILL.  Do not give it another thought.

HAVERILL.  Was there anything besides your health involved in the affair?  There was. [Aside.] How came this handkerchief in her room?

MRS. HAVERILL.  My husband!  I do not want to say anything more—­at—­at present—­about what happened to-night.  There has never been a shadow between us—­will you not trust me?

HAVERILL.  Shadow!  You stand in a bright light of your own, my wife; it shines upon my whole life—­there can be no shadow there.  Tell me as much or as little as you like, and in your own time.  I am sure you will conceal nothing from me that I ought to know.  I trust my honour and my happiness to you, absolutely.

MRS. HAVERILL.  They will both be safe, John, in my keeping.  But there is something else that I wish to speak with you about; something very near to your heart—­your son!

HAVERILL.  My son!

MRS. HAVERILL.  He is in Charleston.

HAVERILL.  And not—­in prison?  To me he is nowhere.  I am childless.

MRS. HAVERILL.  I hope to see him to-day; may I not take him some kind word from you?

HAVERILL.  My lawyers in New York had instructions to provide him with whatever he needed.

MRS. HAVERILL.  They have done so, and he wants for nothing; he asks for nothing, except that I will seek out the poor young wife—­only a girl herself—­whom he is obliged to desert, in New York.