But suddenly all his fair prospects were darkened over.
Sir Walter was in some degree a partner in the business both of
his publisher and his printer. Now both publisher and printer
failed, and Scott found himself ruined with them. At fifty-five
he was not only a ruined man, but loaded with a terrible debt of
117,000 pounds.
It was a staggering blow, and most men would have been utterly
crushed by it. Not so Scott. He was proud, proud of his old
name and of his new-founded baronial hall. He was stout of heart
too. At fifty-five he began life again, determined with his pen
to wipe out the debt. Many were the hands stretched out to help
him; rich men offered their thousands, poor men their scanty
savings, but Scott refused help from both rich and poor. His own
hand must wipe out the debt, he said. Time was all he asked. So
with splendid courage and determination, the like of which has
perhaps never been known, he set to work.
But evil days had begun for Sir Walter. Scarcely four months
after the crash, his wife died, and so he lost a companion of
nearly thirty years.
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