Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from I Myself
Y first memory is one of pain. I was the child of a romantic love marriage my father was desperately in love with my mother, and she with him. She died of heart disease when I was a little girl and he was far away, but I have never forgotten her continued calls for him. Many years after, when his voice had grown weak from suffering, and he was at the gates of death, he tried' to raise himself from 'the pillow, and called in a loud, clear voice Marcia Marcia then fell back into unconsciousness. Her beloved name, which he had not spoken for years, was the last on his lips.
I have a theory that the children of two people who love profoundly have deeper affections than those whose parents are indifferent or philosophic towards each other; at any rate I was born with a most loving heart, and even yet, after years Of disillusion, experience and trouble, it is still in the power of those Whom I love to hurt me bitterly.
I was an unexpected and delicate child, and was greatly loved, and terribly indulged. According to the fashion of the South, I had a foster-mother, a very black young negress of twenty she had already become the mother of two lusty little piccaninnies - shiny, coal-black, fat boys. I adored my Mammy, and my adoration was returned a thousand fold. Love means sacrifice this poor Slave was called upon to make woman's supremest sacrifice for her foster-child, and made it with the generosity of an entirely noble nature.
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