With that one low-voiced word the Shadow of Doom seemed to descend; and above the subdued sound of sobbing the judge’s deep, solemn voice was heard asking the prisoner if he had anything to say before sentence was passed on him.
Roger looked at him full and fearlessly, and answered in tones that rang through the court:
“Only this, my lord, that I am absolutely innocent—innocent in thought as well as in deed—of this appalling crime!”
As he spoke Grace rose in her place, slowly, silently, till she stood at her full height, her hands clasped on her breast. There was a strange, ecstatic expression on her fair face, subtle and inscrutable as the smile of Mona Lisa, and her eyes were fixed on Roger’s, as, from the moment he ceased speaking, his were fixed on hers.
So those two lovers looked at each other while the dread sentence was pronounced that would part them for ever in this world. They did not even seem to hear the words of doom.
Many women, and some men, were sobbing hysterically, none were unmoved; but still Grace stood like a statue, scarcely seeming to breathe, gazing no longer at Roger—for he, with the two warders in attendance, had disappeared—but at the place where he had been.
Austin Starr slipped his arm round her on the one side, Winnie Winston, tearful and trembling, on the other.
“We must get her away,” sobbed Winnie. “Come, darling!”
She yielded to their touch, walking quite steadily, but as unconscious of her surroundings as a somnambulist.