The blood beat back upon her heart and leaped again; her obscure thoughts flashed clear before her; she flew in fancy straight to his arms like a wanton, and fled again on the instant like a nymph.

And at that moment there chanced an interruption, which not only spared her embarrassment, but set the last consecration on her now articulate love.
Into the wine-shop there came a French gentleman, arrayed in the last refinement of the fashion, though a little tumbled by his passage in the wind.

It was to be judged he had come from the same formal gathering at which the others had preceded him; and perhaps that he had gone there in the hope to meet with them, for he came up to Ballantrae with unceremonious eagerness.
'At last, here you are!' he cried in French.

'I thought I was to miss you altogether.' The Scotsmen rose, and Ballantrae, after the first greetings, laid his hand on his companion's shoulder.
'My lord,' said he, 'allow me to present to you one of my best friends and one of our best soldiers, the Lord Viscount Gladsmuir.' The two bowed with the elaborate elegance of the period.
'_Monseigneur_,' said Balmile, '_je n'ai pas la pretention de m'affubler d'un titre que la mauvaise fortune de mon roi ne me permet pas de porter comma il sied_.

_Je m'appelle_, _pour vous servir_, _Blair de Balmile tout court_.' [My lord, I have not the effrontery to cumber myself with a title which the ill fortunes of my king will not suffer me to bear the way it should be.