Treasure of the Celtic Triangle by Michael Phillips

afternoon she went out for a long and thoughtful ride of several hours, through the streets of Llanfryniog and back along the plateau up to Mochras Head before returning inland to Westbrooke Manor. Her mind was full of many things.

F IFTEEN
    David Elginbrod
    F lorilyn was about four-fifths of the way through the novel,
David Elginbrod
. The title character was now dead. As she read, reminded of the death of her own father, Florilyn felt a fleeting bond with David’s daughter, Margaret Elginbrod. But they were from such different stations. Margaret was a peasant. Try as she would, Florilyn could not quite put herself in Margaret’s shoes.
    Suddenly as she began reading the chapter entitled “The Lady’s Maid,” Florilyn realized, if she was going to place herself in the story at all, she was not the character of Margaret; she was
Euphra Cameron
—the spoiled aristocratic young woman Hugh Sutherland was enchanted with.
    The realization was far from pleasant. Fictional though she was, Euphra was mean, self-centered, and petty. Hugh’s fascination with her was one of the mysteries of the story.
    With suddenly heightened interest, Florilyn read of Euphra’s treatment of Margaret upon discovery of the personal letter she had written to David Elginbrod, not yet knowing him to be Margaret’s father.
    “Margaret had sought Euphra’s room, with the intention of restoring to her the letter which she had written. Hopes of ministration filled Margaret’s heart; but she expected, from what she knew of her, that anger would be Miss Cameron’s first feeling
.
    ‘What do you want?’ she said angrily
.
    ‘This is your letter, Miss Cameron, is it not?’ said Margaret, advancing with it in her hand
.
    Euphra took it, glanced at the direction, started up in a passion, and let loose the whole gathered irritability of contempt, weariness, disappointment, and suffering, upon Margaret. Her dark eyes flashed with rage
.
    ‘What right have you, pray, to handle my letters? How did you get this! And open, too. I declare! I suppose you have read it?’
    Margaret was afraid of exciting more wrath before she had an opportunity of explaining; but Euphra gave her no time to think of a reply
.
    ‘You have read it, you shameless woman! Impudent prying! Pray, did you hope to find a secret worth a bribe?’
    She advanced on Margaret till within afoot of her
.
    ‘Why don’t you answer, you hussy?’
    Margaret stood quietly, waiting for an opportunity to speak. Her face was very pale, but perfectly still, and her eyes did not quail
.
    ‘You do not know my name, Miss Cameron; of course you could not.’
    ‘Your name! What is that to me?’
    ‘That,’ said Margaret, pointing to the letter, ‘is my father’s name.’
    Euphra looked at her own direction again, and then looked at Margaret. She was so bewildered, that if she had any thoughts, she did not know them. Margaret went on:
    ‘My father is dead. My mother sent the letter to me.’
    ‘What is it to you? Do you think I am going to make a confidante of you?’”
    Florilyn’s heart smote her, and she could read no more. She put the book aside as tears filled her eyes.
    She had been just like Euphra. She had treated poor Gwyneth the same way—rudely and angrily. If parallels with the story were to be drawn, Gwyneth was the saintly Margaret, and she was the unlovely Euphra.
    She had changed, thought Florilyn to herself, and she thanked God for it. But there were times when the memory of what she had once been still made her cry. She had been shameful toward Gwyneth. Maybe she
was
Euphra after all!
    Once the parallels with the story were clear, Florilyn saw them everywhere. It might as well have been a story set in Westbrooke Manor! On every page as she read over the ensuing days, as Margaret became Euphra’s maid, as their friendship blossomed, as Euphra began to grow and change, and as it became clear that both girls were smitten with Hugh Sutherland, Florilyn was no longer reading