e sure she will not accept,
instead of the thirds of such a fortune, L1,200 a-year; and after her to
their son for life; and then the L1,200 and L1,000 to Lady Bute and to
her second son; with L2,000 to each of her younger children; all the
rest, in present, to Lady Bute, then to her second son, taking the name
of Wortley, and in succession to all the rest of her children, which are
numerous; and after them to Lord Sandwich, to whom, in present, he
leaves about L40,000. The son, you perceive, is not so well treated by
his own father as his companion Taaffe[22] is by the French Court, where
he lives, and is received on the best footing; so near is Fort l'Eveque
to Versailles."

[Footnote 22: Theodore Taaffe, an Irish adventurer, who, with Edward
Wortley Montagu, was imprisoned in Fort l'Eveque, at Paris, for cheating
at cards in 1751. The incident has been given in a pamphlet written by
Montagu.]

On hearing of the death of her husband, Lady Mary bethought herself of
returning to England, from which she had been absent for more than a
score of years. She was seventy-two years old, and may well have thought
that her time, too, would soon come, and that she would like to die in
her native country. Still, it was some time before she could bring
herself to a decision to set out. She was delighted with the political
success of Lord Bute and pleased with her daughter's prosperity, but "I
am doubtful whether I will attempt to be a spectator of it," she
confided in Sir James Steuart in April. "I have so many years indulged
my natural inclinations to solitude and reading, I am unwilling to
return to crowds and bustle, which would be unavoidable in London. The
few friends I esteemed are now no more: the new set of people who fill
the stage at present are too indifferent to me even to raise my
curiosity." Also, as she said, she was beginning to feel the worst
effects of age, blindness excepted, and was grown timorous and
suspicious.

It was no light thing for a woman of Lady Mary's age to voyage alone,
except for a servant or two, from Venice to London. Yet her indomitable
spirit came to her aid, and in the autumn of 1761 she left Italy. She
travelled by way of Augsberg and Frankfort to Rotterdam. The journey had
been far from agreeable. "I am dragging my ragged remnant of life to
England," she wrote to Sir James Steuart on November 20. "The wind and
tide are against me; how far I have strength to struggle against both I
know n