If Montagu objected to the indiscretions of Lady Mary, it does not appear that he was in any hurry to get married to her.  Of course, it may be—­it is only fair to him to say—­that Lady Mary held him temporarily at bay, preferring the frivolities of those of her own age to the austere attentions of one who acted as if he might have been her father.

For some years she and Montagu were apparently content with writing long letters to each other when they were not both in town.  When the correspondence started is uncertain.  The first letter of Lady Mary that has been preserved is dated Thoresby, May 2, 1709; but there can be no doubt that they had been in regular communication before then.

It is specially to be noted that the earlier letters of Lady Mary were addressed to Montagu’s sister, Anne.  It is evident, however, that they were definitely written for his perusal, and it is equally clear that Anne’s replies were inspired, and sometimes, if not always, drafted by him.  This practice continued until the death of Anne Wortley in March, 1710.  Yet there seems to have been no reason for this camouflage.  In 1709 Lady Mary was twenty years of age, and Montagu was a very eligible parti.

The respectful, highfalutin gallantry that is the key-note of the correspondence recalls the correspondence that presently was exchanged between Henrietta Howard, Countess of Suffolk, and the octogenarian Earl of Peterborough.

Some typical passages from the letters to “My dear Mrs. Wortley” may be given—­it should be mentioned that it was the social custom of the day to address as “Mrs.” maiden ladies as well as married women.

“Thoresby, August 8, 1709.

“I know no pretence I have to your good opinion but my hearty desiring it; I wish I had that imagination you talk of, to render me a fitter correspondent for you, who can write so well on every thing.  I am now so much alone, I have leisure to pass whole days in reading, but am not at all proper for so delicate an employment as choosing you books.  Your own fancy will better direct you.  My study at present is nothing but dictionaries and grammars.  I am trying whether it be possible to learn without a master; I am not certain (and dare hardly hope) I shall make any great progress; but I find the study so diverting I am not only easy, but pleased with the solitude that indulges it.  I forget there is such a place as London, and wish for no company but yours.  You see, my dear, in making my pleasures consist of these unfashionable diversions, I am not of the number who cannot be easy out of the mode.  I believe more follies are committed out of complaisance to the world, than in following our own inclinations—­Nature is seldom in the wrong, custom always; it is with some regret I follow it in all the impertinencies of dress; the compliance is so trivial it comforts me; but I am amazed to see it consulted even in the most important occasions of our lives; and that people