his way for him. A monstrous crime
indeed that, under such circumstances, he could not popularize his
naturally grave, quiet manners all at once; could not be jocular, and
free, and cordial with a strange peasantry, as you are with your
fellow-townsmen! An unpardonable transgression that when he introduced
improvements he did not go about the business in quite the most politic
way, did not graduate his changes as delicately as a rich capitalist
might have done! For errors of this sort is he to be the victim of mob
outrage? Is he to be denied even the privilege of defending himself? Are
those who have the hearts of men in their breasts (and Mr. Helstone, say
what you will of him, has such a heart) to be reviled like malefactors
because they stand by him, because they venture to espouse the cause of
one against two hundred?"

"Come, come now, be cool," said Mr. Yorke, smiling at the earnestness
with which Shirley multiplied her rapid questions.

"Cool! Must I listen coolly to downright nonsense--to dangerous
nonsense? No. I like you very well, Mr. Yorke, as you know, but I
thoroughly dislike some of your principles. All that cant--excuse me,
but I repeat the word--all that _cant_ about soldiers and parsons is
most offensive in my ears. All ridiculous, irrational crying up of one
class, whether the same be aristocrat or democrat--all howling down of
another class, whether clerical or military--all exacting injustice to
individuals, whether monarch or mendicant--is really sickening to me;
all arraying of ranks against ranks, all party hatreds, all tyrannies
disguised as liberties, I reject and wash my hands of. _You_ think you
are a philanthropist; _you_ think you are an advocate of liberty; but I
will tell you this--Mr. Hall, the parson of Nunnely, is a better friend
both of man and freedom than Hiram Yorke, the reformer of Briarfield."

From a man Mr. Yorke would not have borne this language very patiently,
nor would he have endured it from some women; but he accounted Shirley
both honest and pretty, and her plain-spoken ire amused him. Besides, he
took a secret pleasure in hearing her defend her tenant, for we have
already intimated he had Robert Moore's interest very much at heart.
Moreover, if he wished to avenge himself for her severity, he knew the
means lay in his power: a word, he believed, would suffice to tame and
silence her, to cover her frank forehead with the rosy shadow of shame,
and veil the glow of her e