The Third Generation Read Free Page A

again they had cleared a plot of land and built another house. The parents were more determined than ever to bring their children up in the church, give them an education and a better start in life. They joined the Presbyterian Church; Charles became a Deacon and the Superintendent of the Sunday School, and Lin became active in missionary work. For years the church had been the center of their social life.
    It had been a slow, hard struggle all the way. Despite his ill health, Charles had worked long hours as a brick mason and day laborer, while Lin did washing. But they had sent their children to college, the girls to the church seminary and the boys to a college in Atlanta.
    All of the girls had been considered very talented; they played the piano and had “white folks’ manners.” All had fair complexions and reddish hair. The three eldest had taught at the seminary upon graduation. Tom, the eldest son, had become a successful building contractor. Both Charlie, his younger brother, and his father had worked for him.
    During that time the family had gained in prestige and had become prominent throughout the town and state. Two of the girls had married doctors. Lillian’s oldest sister had married a minister who had later become a bishop. Both brothers had married schoolteachers.
    Lillian had taken piano lessons from the age of six and had been considered the genius of the family. She had been given to daydreaming and was moody and temperamental. When her older brothers and sisters had grown up and began earning their living the family showed signs of prosperity. After the age of ten she had been raised in very pleasant circumstances. It had been during her early teens she had first conceived the romantic notions of her heredity.
    She had seen only one of her grandparents, “Grandma Mary,” her father’s mother, who had lived on the old plantation until her death. Her parents never spoke of the others. She had been a curious girl. Once she had asked her mother, “Where does Grandpa live, ma?”
    “Your grandpa was killed in the war,” Lin had replied.
    “Both of them?”
    Lin had stopped ironing and had sat in the rocker by the hearth. “Come here, chile, and I will tell you all ‘bout your grandpas. Your Grandpa Manning, your pa’s pa, was killed at Chickamauga when he threw himself in front of Ol’ Mars to save his life. He caught the bullet that was ‘tended for Ol’ Mars’ heart and fell dead at his feet. And my pa was shot trying to get through Gen’l Sherman’s lines to carry orders to the cap’n of the Georgia troops. They never did find his body.”
    Lillian had known that this was fiction to satisfy her curiosity and had become more curious than ever. After that she had eavesdropped on her parents’ conversations. One of her favorite positions was in the dark by the open kitchen window when her parents thought her in bed. Here she had learned that her father was the son of Dr. Jessie Manning, and that her mother was the daughter of an Irish overseer and an Indian slave.
    She had added to the story, enlarging and changing the parts she didn’t like. The resulting story was that her father was the son of Dr. Manning and a beautiful octoroon, the most beautiful woman in all the state, whose own father had been an English nobleman. Her mother was the daughter of a son of a United States President and an octoroon who was the daughter of a Confederate Army general.
    At first it had been a childish game of fantasy. After having received several whippings for recounting it to her wide-eyed schoolmates she had kept it to herself, and in time had outgrown it. As a young woman she had felt a real sense of superiority which, in her home environment, had needed no support.
    It was only after the disillusionment of her marriage and the first bitter conflicts about color with her husband and the dark-complexioned faculty wives that she revived it. She never gave the story absolute credence, but it became