[_She throws her arms out, letting them fall at her side._
MORGAN. [_Almost gently._] All right, Mary ... I'll send for the preacher and the license in the morning and have him marry you and Jim right here. You needn't think about leavin' any more. And you and Jim can live here as long as you please. Is that all right, Jim?
JIM. [_Uncertainly._] Yes-suh, yes-suh, Mr. Mawgin! An' I thanks you 'specially.
MORGAN. [_Going up to_ AUNT CANDACE.] Mary and Jim are going to be married to-morrow, Candace. It'll be a lucky day for you. [_She makes no answer, but continues her trancelike stare in the fire._ MORGAN _comes to_ MARY _and offers his hand. She fails to see it._] Child, what I've had to do to-night has hurt me a whole lot worse'n you.... Good-night, Mary.
[_He stands a moment looking at the floor, then goes out quietly._
JIM. [_Coming up to_ MARY.] Miss Mary, don't look lak dat. I's gwine do better, I's.... [MARY _keeps her head muffled in her apron_.] Honey, I's sho' gwine make you a good man.
[MARY _pays no attention to him. In his embarrassment he strums his guitar, clears his throat, props his foot up on a chair rung, and begins singing in a low voice._]
JIM. Lyin' in the jail house, A-peepin' th'ough de bars....
AUNT CANDACE. [_Waking from her reverie._] Bring me de li'l black box, gal. Bring me de box! [MARY _drops her apron and stares dully at the floor_.] Bring me de box! [_Half-screaming._] Bring me de box, I say! [_Trembling and groaning, she stands up._ MARY _goes to the chest and brings her the black box_. AUNT CANDACE _drops her stick and clutches it_.] I's gwine tell you de secret o' dis li'l box. Yo' mammy told me to tell you if de time ever come, an' it's come. She seed trouble an' our mammy befo' us. [_She takes a key, tied by a string around her neck, and unlocks the box, pulling out a wrinkled white dress, yellowed with age, of the style of the last generation._ JIM _sits down, overcome with astonishment, staring at the old woman with open mouth_.] Look heah, chile. I's gwine tell you now. Nineteen yeahs ago come dis Christmas dey's a white man gi'n your mammy dis heah, an' dat white man is kin to you, an' he don't live fur off nuther. Gimme dat dress dere on de bed. [MARY _gets it and holds it tightly to her breast_. AUNT CANDACE _snatches at it, but_ MARY _clings to it_.] Gimme dat dress!