He traveled about,
listening to the ballads of the country folk, gathering tales,
storing his mind with memories of people and places. "He was
making himself a' the time," said a friend who went with him,
"but he didna ken maybe what he was about till years had passed.
At first he thought o' little, I daresay, but the queerness and
the fun."
It was in an expedition to the English Lakes with his brother and
a friend that Scott met his wife. One day while out riding he
saw a lady also riding. She had raven black hair and deep brown
eyes, which found a way at once to the poet's heart. In true
poet fashion he loved her. That night there was a ball, and
though Walter Scott could not dance, he went to the ball and met
his lady love. She was Charlotte Margaret Carpenter, the
daughter of a Frenchman who had taken refuge in England from the
fury of the Revolution. Walter was able to win his lady's heart,
and before the end of the year had married her and carried her
off to Scotland.
Two or three years after his marriage, Scott published a book of
Border Ballads.
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