rich, I think the Establishment is indeed in a poor way, and both she and her sons appear in the utmost need of reformation. Turning away distressed from minster-tower and village spire—ay, as distressed as a churchwarden who feels the exigence of white-wash, and has not wherewithal to purchase lime—I recall your senseless sarcasms on the 'fat bishops,' the 'pampered parsons,' 'old mother church,' &c. I remember your strictures on all who differ from you, your sweeping condemnation of classes and individuals, without the slightest allowance made for circumstances or temptations; and then, Mr. Yorke, doubt clutches my inmost heart as to whether men exist clement, reasonable, and just enough to be entrusted with the task of reform. I don't believe you are of the number."
"You have an ill opinion of me, Miss Shirley: you never told me so much of your mind before."
"I never had an opening; but I have sat on Jessy's stool by your chair in the back-parlour at Briarmains, for evenings together, listening excitedly to your talk, half-admiring what you said, and half-rebelling against it. I think you a fine old Yorkshireman, sir: I am proud to have been born in the same county and parish as yourself—truthful, upright, independent you are, as a rock based below seas; but also you are harsh, rude, narrow, and merciless."
