CHAPTER XI.
How the Plot Succeeded.
Colonel Mostyn had no longer any reason to complain of his young kinsman; it was a month since he had been introduced to Lady Amelie, and he had lived in one long dream.

He no longer found the time wearisome, or longed for something to do.

He was in the power of a beautiful and heartless coquette, who took care that he should not lightly wear her chains.
He no longer showed any indifference to his evening engagements; to be with her was the one wish of his life; where she went, he went--to ball, opera, soiree, concert, fete, to dinners at Richmond, to water-parties; whoever saw the beautiful Lady Amelie, saw her last victim with her.
Colonel Mostyn began to think that really matters had been carried quite far enough; all the good he had anticipated was done; he did not wish evil to follow, and he was beginning to scheme for his young kinsman's rescue, when he was suddenly summoned to join his regiment, just ordered abroad, and Basil was left to his fate.
He gave him some parting words of advice, but they fell on deaf ears.
Even had Basil quite understood them, he would have asked how was it possible for a matter-of-fact, prosaic soldier like Colonel Mostyn, a man of the world, to understand such transcendental beings as Lady Amelie and himself.
During the whole of this time, believe me, he had no thought of harm or wrong; he never dreamed of being in love with Lady Amelie.

What was she to him?
His queen, his lode-star, his inspiration to all that was great and glorious, the Lama to his Petrarch; but of anything less exalted, he had no notion.

Basil Carruthers, with all his eccentricity, would have shuddered at the bare notion of dishonorable love or sin.