But when Clarisse heard that Monsieur de Mauluçon and her brother were on the eve of leaving London for Southampton to rejoin the royal army in Vendée, she hesitated no longer. Confiding the children to their grandfather's care, she left Pontivy, and arrived in London, to find her husband and brother at the house of a mutual friend, Benjamin Vaughan, whose acquaintance they had made at the American Embassy in Paris, at a reception on the anniversary of the United States Independence, and with whom they had become intimate. But Clarisse had hardly rejoined her husband, when a letter reached her from Pontivy telling her that if she wished to hear her father's last words she must come at once. She returned to France almost beside herself with grief, giving her whole soul to her husband in a parting kiss. It was to be their last. Misfortune followed misfortune with astounding rapidity. Monsieur de Mauluçon and Jacques de Pontivy soon landed at Saint-Paire, and joined the Vendean army. At the first encounter Jacques was killed by a Republican bullet, and Monsieur de Mauluçon mortally wounded. He was secretly conveyed to London with other wounded royalists, and in spite of the fraternal welcome and care he found under the roof of the faithful friend who had always received them with open arms, he died there of his wounds. Clarisse learnt her double bereavement at the time when her father was breathing his last. Thus she became a widow and an orphan in that brief space of time. Prostrated by this double blow, she was for some time at death's door. When she came to herself after a delirium which lasted nearly a week, she saw her children--for Marie Thérèse, now doubly orphaned, was more her child than ever--seated at her bedside awaiting in unspeakable anxiety her return to consciousness. She drew them to her, and covered them with kisses. "Console yourselves," she said, "I shall live, since you are here." At this moment a man advanced smilingly towards her, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. "Leonard!" she said, "you here?" It was an old servant of Monsieur de Pontivy, who had come in all haste from Montmorency, where he lived, to attend the funeral of his late master. "Ah!" he cried, "Madame can rest assured Leonard will not leave her till she is herself again." "Then I shall remain ill as long as possible," she replied laughing, and she held out her hands to him. Her convalescence was short, and as soon as she was on her feet again she began to think of the future. But Leonard had already thought of this. "You cannot remain here," he said. "Your name, your connections, your fortune--everything denounces you, and exposes you to the ill-treatment of so-called patriots. You must leave Pontivy." "Go? But where?" asked Clarisse, "Abroad? I have already thought of that, but how can I reach the frontier with my young people without passport, and without guide?"