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The last thing to go was a tiny bundle of letters; innocent little

scribblings that Desiree had sent to hi the days of their

espousal There was the remnant of one back in the drawer from which he

took them But it was not Desiree's; it was part of an old letter fro God for the

blessing of her husband's love:--

"But above all," she wrote, "night and day, I thank the good God for

having so arranged our lives that our dear Armand will never know that

his s to the race that is cursed with the

brand of slavery"