They had sunk in the scale; the parson had risen.

The old statesmen or peasant proprietors of the valley had for the most part succumbed to various destructive influences, some social, some economical, added to a certain amount of corrosion from within; and their place had been taken by leaseholders, lets drunken perhaps, and better educated, but also far less shrewd and individual, and lacking in the rude dignity of their predecessors.
And as the land had lost, the church had gained.

The place of the dalesmen knew them no more, but the church and Parsonage had got themselves rebuilt, the parson had had his income raised, had let off his glebe to a neighboring farmer, kept two maids, and drank claret when he drank anything.

His flock were friendly enough, and paid their commuted tithes without grumbling.

But between them and a perfectly well-meaning but rather dull man, who stood on his dignity and wore a black coat all the week, there was no real community.