By Brian Taylor BBC Scotland political editor

Mr Kennedy said he did not have enough support among MPs

The rear window sticker on his plush party car said it all. It proffered support for the Belford Hospital in his Highland home patch.

That, in future, will be the political life of Charles Kennedy.

He departed with dignity - and with just a tiny touch of the droll ironic wit which has characterised his time at the top.

He had, he said, been too long in politics to become over-flowery on this occasion.

But there was, too, a decidedly blunt message in his parting speech. He warned his party that they required to address their internal policy divide - and address it in their own terms.

Translated - and, frankly, it's pretty clear without interpretation - that means he wants the Liberal Democrats to map their own path without aping David Cameron's Conservatives or New Labour.

'Breach of trust'

Mr Kennedy was referring, only slightly obliquely, to the internal squabble which he has had to referee.

A squabble between those who would take the party in a free-market direction and those who adhere more firmly to traditional concerns for those who endure deprivation in society.

This is not an adjunct to the well-publicised problems with drink. It runs in parallel. Mr Kennedy did not go simply because of his alcohol confession. Of course, that is critical, elemental.

To be blunt, he had lied to his party and to the public when he insisted, repeatedly and in terms, that he did not have a drink problem.

That was a crucial breach of trust, although perhaps, in human terms, one might tender a plea in mitigation, given that denial is such a core element of drink problems.

But Mr Kennedy was also pushed out because critics feel he had failed to deal sufficiently with the policy and strategy choices facing his party.

In short, the party - especially the newly elected MPs - got fed up with a leader who felt, occasionally, like a detached observer.

'Such is politics'

Whether it was drink, whether it was boredom, whether it was lassitude, he wasn't performing at the pace they needed.

The parliamentary party wanted a leader who shared, or appeared to share, their determination to update the party still further. The party had, to some extent, left him behind.

It is that very sense of apparent detachment which endears Charles Kennedy to the public.

They feel he's a decent bloke who thinks intelligently and speaks with passion about their concerns, who talks English not jargon.

They contrast him with the array of political robots, their machine gun rattling out clich�s.

For Mr Kennedy now, the first stage will be relief. Relief that the tension, the endless pressure, is abated. The next stage will be emptiness. Why doesn't the phone ring? Where are the crowds?