"There have been certain innuendos," he said, raising his voice slightly, "against an innocent person, a perfectly innocent and helpless person, whom I now appear to defend. To bring, even by implication, the name of this person into this matter was most cruel and unjustifiable, and I hereby protest against it with all my might. I ask no consideration for myself, but I demand it for that misjudged and blameless person who has been attacked under the cover of the public press. I leave this chamber never to return to it; if a lifetime of regret can atone for what, I now feel, was not the proper use of my position as senator, these acts of mine will be atoned. I can say no more, and I can say no less."
The whole incident did not occupy five minutes. The breathless silence was maintained as Senator March came out into the aisle and bowed low to the Vice-President, by whom the bow was scrupulously returned, and at the same moment, acting by a common impulse, every senator rose to his feet; this was followed by a sound like the waves upon the seashore, for every spectator in the galleries also rose, moved by that spectacle of the most high-minded of men taking upon himself the burden of another's guilt.
Senator March stopped for a moment and glanced around the chamber in which he had had a place for nearly fifteen years. The great wave of sympathy and respect made itself obvious to him. The colour rushed to his pale face, and then as suddenly departed, leaving him whiter than before. He walked with a steady step towards the door and the door-keepers, in throwing the leaves wide for him, bowed low, a salute which Senator March returned with formal courtesy.
Then the silence was broken by a faint cry and a commotion in the public gallery; it was thought that some one, overcome by the crowd and excitement, had fainted. Not so; it was Alicia March who had uttered that faint cry, but the next moment she had slipped through the door and was making her way swiftly out of the place. No one stopped her or even recognised her, and she made her way to the ground-floor entrance, where Senator March's carriage was drawn up. She saw her husband pass out directly in front of her. His step was still steady and his iron composure had not deserted him. He entered the waiting carriage, which was driven rapidly off, and when it was out of sight down the hill Alicia crept forth and stepped into the shabby cab, in which the most luxurious of women had gone, as it were, to the place of execution.
XII
It took half-an-hour for the decrepit cab horse to drag the vehicle to the door of the splendid home which was now Alicia March's alone. As she entered she met Watson.
"Is my husband here?" she asked.
Watson raised his eyebrows in cool contempt.
"He is on his way to his ranch in the West, never to return. May I see you now for a few minutes to transact some necessary business?"
Alicia without a word led the way to her own boudoir, passing the door of her husband's study. The desk was clear and already men were at work packing the books which were all that Roger March took from the noble fittings of what had once been his home. It was so like removing the paraphernalia of a dead man that Alicia shuddered as she passed the door. Seated at a table in her own rooms, Watson passed over to her certain deeds, papers, and a bank-book showing a large sum of money deposited to her credit at the bank.