"Though," said he to himself, "she is not to be, thank heaven!--cannot be married to Lord Morven, I am not the less altogether unworthy of her! It would not be the less of presumption, the less of ingratitude, the less of baseness in me, to indulge for a moment in such a thought. Though Lord Morven happens to be a married man, it is to some one of rank and fortune equal to his, that Lord L. will think of uniting his daughter. That Lord Borrowdale!--he is not married, and it was with him she danced the first set--and they are neighbours too. But of what avail is it for me to torture myself with conjectures?--it is enough for me, that she can never, never--no, never be----" He paused--then recommenced--"I must fly her presence! I must return to the wild waves which have long been my home, and make them my home still! There I have earned a sort of claim; elsewhere I have none! On no one spot of earth can the wretched Edmund place the wanderer's foot, and say, 'This is my native soil!'--and for a name----!" Here the painful thought pressed upon him, that he had no actual right to any. He then remembered, with a sigh, the many useless efforts which had been made to discover his birth. Then a burning blush tingled on his cheek, as the sudden thought struck him, and for the first time, that he might possibly be the child of shame, and that therefore it was that no one would claim him. He strove to shake off the idea; then, as if to drown an intruding voice, which seemed to whisper that the suggestion was probable, he thus continued:--"Wrapped in mystery, as every thing concerning me is, I must, all my life, remain an isolated, a miserable being! A home of joy--sweet domestic affections--all, in short, that renders life desirable, is forbidden to me! Under what name dare I present myself before heaven's holy altar? What appellation dare I offer to that woman who would share my fortunes?"