“Of earth, or Heaven?” dryly inquired Sir Thomas.
“The Court of England, I mean, Sir. They be universally derided and held of low esteem. All these Sectaries—Puritans, Gospellers, Anabaptists, and what not—no gentleman would be seen in their company.”
“Dear heart!” growled the still acetic Rachel. “The angels must be mighty busy a-building chambers for the gentry, that they mix not in Heaven with the poor common saints.”
“’Tis the general thought, Aunt, among men of account.—and doth commend itself for truth,—that ’t will take more ill-doing to damn a gentleman than a common man.” (Note 2.)
“Good lack! I had thought it should be the other way about,” said Rachel satirically.
“No doubt,” echoed Lady Enville—in approbation of Jack’s sentiment, not Rachel’s.
“Why, Aunt!—think you no account is taken of birth and blood in Heaven?”
“Nay, I’ll e’en let it be,” said Rachel, rising and opening the door. “Only look thou, Jack,—there is another place than Heaven; and I don’t reckon there be separate chambers there. Do but think what it were, if it should chance to a gentleman to be shut up yonder along with the poor sinners of the peasantry!”
And leaving this Parthian dart, Rachel went her way.
“I will talk with thee again, Jack: in the mean while, I will, keep these,” said his father, taking up the bills.