“May you enjoy a long Continuance of the true Relish of the Happiness Heaven hath bestowed on you.  I know not how to say a more affectionate Thing to you, than to wish you may be always what you are, and that you may ever think, as I know you now do, that you have a much larger Fortune than you want.  I am,

“Sir,

“Your most Obedient and most Humble Servant,

“ISAAC BICKERSTAFF.”

Montagu was also interested in politics.  He was a staunch Whig, and in favour with the leaders of his party.  He sat in the House of Commons from 1705 to 1713 as member for Huntingdon, where there was family interest.  It was not, however, until after the accession of George I that he held office.

At first, it may be, Montagu took some kind of paternal interest in Lady Mary.  This attitude did not long endure.  When the change in his feelings took place there is no means of knowing.  He does not seem to have been a passionate man, nor a very ardent lover, but there is no doubt that at this period he inspired the girl with a very real devotion and respect, even though perhaps her heart was not deeply engaged.

Montagu would have had the girl find her pleasures exclusively in books and in his own conversation.  She, at the age of twenty, on the other hand, was full of the joy of life and liked the various social pleasures that came her way.  Naturally, she tried the effect of her good looks and wit on men.  In fact, she was fond of flirting, and as it must probably have been impossible to flirt with Montagu, she indulged herself in that agreeable pastime with more than one other—­to the great annoyance of that pompous prig of an admirer of hers.  The following letter, dated September 5, 1709, written to Anne Wortley for her brother’s perusal, was clearly an endeavour to sooth away the man’s jealousy.

“September 5, 1709.

“My dear Mrs. Wortley, as she has the entire power of raising, can also, with a word, calm my passions.  The kindness of your last recompenses me for the injustice of your former letter; but you cannot sure be angry at my little resentment.  You have read that a man who, with patience, hears himself called heretic, can never be esteemed a good Christian.  To be capable of preferring the despicable wretch you mention to Mr. Wortley, is as ridiculous, if not as criminal, as forsaking the Deity to worship a calf.  Don’t tell me any body ever had so mean an opinion of my inclinations; ’tis among the number of those things I would forget.  My tenderness is always built upon my esteem, and when the foundation perishes, it falls:  I must own, I think it is so with every body—­but enough of this:  you tell me it was meant for raillery—­was not the kindness meant so too?  I fear I am too apt to think what is amusement designed in earnest—­no matter, ’tis for my repose to be deceived, and I will believe whatever you tell me.

“I should be very glad to be informed of a right method, or whether there is such a thing alone, but am afraid to ask the question.  It may be reasonably called presumption in a girl to have her thoughts that way.  You are the only creature that I have made my confidante in that case:  I’ll assure you, I call it the greatest secret of my life.  Adieu, my dear, the post stays, my next shall be longer.”