MARY RICH, COUNTESS OF WARWICK 155 



funeral procession passed beneath the Tudor tower, 

 to which the swallows were just returning, and over 

 the red-brick bridge which spanned the tiny stream, 

 and winding its way past the " wilderness," then 

 starred with primroses and anemones, and beside the 

 old monastic ponds, it followed the grassy lanes to 

 Felstead Church, where, amid the genuine sorrow of 

 the simple villagers, the coffin of their good benefac- 

 tress was lowered into the family vault beneath the 

 imposing effigy of Lord Chancellor Rich. 



No monument to her memory is to be found in 

 Felstead Church, and only a few dim and uncertain 

 traditions linger in the neighbourhood of the ruined 

 priory. A large room in the solitary gateway tower, 

 lighted at either end with a noble Tudor window, and 

 reached by a winding staircase in the south-east turret, 

 is believed to be the one in which the Countess inter- 

 viewed her tenants and transacted the business of her 

 estate; and "a little white flower" that grows by the 

 river is said to be known among the cottage folk as 

 "Lady Rich's flower." But the wooded dell beyond 

 the stream, with its gnarled and stunted thorns, its 

 shining clumps of Iris and Alexander, and its sweet 

 forget-me-nots — the site of the beloved " wilderness " 

 — is hallowed ground, the most sacred spot in connec- 

 tion with the memory of the pious Puritan lady, whose 

 one aim and object in life was to " glorify God " and 

 to do what good she could to her neighbours in the 

 parishes around. 



