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Beginning
Bazel
Building and Testing for Java, Go,
and More
—
P.J. McNerney
Beginning Bazel
Building and Testing for Java,
Go, and More
P.J. McNerney
Beginning Bazel: Building and Testing for Java, Go, and More
P.J. McNerney
Blackhawk, CO, USA
Chapter 1: Introduction�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1
What This Book Is�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1
What This Book Is Not������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1
Features of Bazel�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 2
High-Level Build Language������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 3
Explicit Dependency Management������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 3
Advanced Visibility Features���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 4
Explicit Workspace Management�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 4
Remote Build Execution and Caching�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 4
Build Dependency Analysis������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ 4
Fast, Correct Builds (and Tests)����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 4
Who This Book Is For (and Possibly Not For)��������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 5
iii
Table of Contents
Windows������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 13
Setting Up Your System��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 13
Installing Required Applications�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 15
Bazel Installation������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 17
Final Word����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 21
iv
Table of Contents
v
Table of Contents
vi
Table of Contents
Index��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 189
vii
About the Author
P.J. McNerney is a developer with over 20 years experience as a software engineer,
having worked for a variety of companies, including Google, DreamWorks Animation,
Insomniac Games, Goldman Sachs, and Major League Baseball. He lives in Colorado
with beloved wife, children, and their dogs.
ix
About the Technical Reviewer
Laurent LeBrun is a software engineer at Google in Munich. He has been working
with Bazel since 2011 and helped open-source it in 2015. He led the design and
implementation of Starlark, to provide an extension mechanism to Bazel.
In the past, he has worked on a contract basis with Microsoft using the F# language.
In his free time, he creates real time 3D animations as part of the demo scene.
xi
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
Welcome to the world of Bazel!
In case you haven’t heard about it, Bazel is the open source version of the build
system used at Google (Alphabet). To give a sense of scale, Bazel was designed to solve
some of the core problems of building at Google, namely, having to build literally
millions of lines of code across a multitude of languages, efficiently and correctly, for
multiple platforms (e.g., server, mobile, desktop) and different hardware architectures.
While the build system was initially internal to Google, it was released to open source
a few years ago. Since that time, it has continued to evolve into a high-performance,
powerful, yet simple build system for production-level needs.
1
© P.J. McNerney 2020
P.J. McNerney, Beginning Bazel, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-5194-2_1
Chapter 1 Introduction
in this book (perhaps a future sequel will explore some of the areas). Fortunately, Bazel’s
documentation is excellent: https://docs.bazel.build. This has the information on
latest and greatest advancements happening for Bazel.
Also, while Bazel is able to build most languages, this text only covers a very small
fraction of them. Fortunately, the patterns that you will learn in this book are applicable
across most of the languages that you are likely to encounter and use with Bazel.
New language rules are popping up all the time, so it is worthwhile to check out the
main GitHub organization at https://github.com/bazelbuild. Additionally, Awesome
Bazel (www.awesomebazel.com) is a great site for a curated set of Bazel rules and very
worthwhile to check out to see some fun new possibilities for the language.
Features of Bazel
One of the chief goals of Bazel is to make sure that your builds are hermetic, that is,
that the build dependencies (including both dependent libraries and build tools) are
well known and independent of anything that may or may not be installed on any given
machine. Ideally, any build can be reproduced using only the tools within the given
project’s workspace.
To this end, Bazel takes special care to ensure that you are explicitly specifying all
of your dependencies and eschewing any “magic” in creating your build. Some might
object that this is removing a degree of convenience. However, in reality this explicit
specification allows both Bazel and the user to reason intelligently about the builds and
provide tools to help diagnose and fix issues as they occur.
Bazel has many features that make it attractive as a build system:
• High-level, extensible build language
2
Chapter 1 Introduction
3
Chapter 1 Introduction
4
Chapter 1 Introduction
Bazel utilizes its many features to create a coherent and optimized method of
building products. In addition, it has an intelligent caching system to ensure that
rebuilding (since development is mostly all about rebuilding) is quick and correct, with
little need for cleaning.
When all is said and done, the best feature of Bazel is that it works quickly, simply,
and correctly. You can put together a simple Bazel project, execute it, and then easily
extend it over time.
• …are starting from scratch and want a build system that is going to
scale with your needs
This last point may seem a bit strange; however, Bazel is an opinionated build
system. In order to ensure the guarantees of speed and correctness, it will actively
prevent you from doing counterproductive things (e.g., circular build dependencies).
Additionally, Bazel operates best when it is the primary build system. While it can work
5
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
Infirmary, always taking the operations there in difficult cases, part
of every day had to be spent at it. Early in the morning he saw
patients at home, twice a week gratuitously; at a quarter to ten he
went out, and between that time and three o'clock paid his round of
calls and visited the Infirmary. At three he was at home to receive
patients again; at six he dined; and it very rarely happened that he
had not second visits to pay afterwards. Of course this usual routine
of duty was often varied; visits at a distance had to be paid,
necessitating post-horses to his close carriage, if no rail conducted to
the place; patients hovering between life and death must be seen
oftener than once or twice in the day, perhaps in the night; and
sometimes a terrible case of accident would be brought into the
Infirmary, demanding the utmost skill that the most perfect operator
could give. In those cases of accident it was Dr. Davenal who was
sent for by the house-surgeon; none other of the visiting surgeons
were so sure as he: and Dr. Davenal, though he had a whole dining-
room full of patients waiting their turn to go in to him, guinea in
hand, abandoned them all, and strode away to the Infirmary with his
fleetest step.
Neal threw open the door of this room for his master, bowed him
in with the air of a groom of the chambers, and Mr. Cray started
from his tilting position to find his feet. As they stood together his
height was somewhat under the doctor's, and his only reached the
middle height.
"Is it you, Mark?" said the doctor, quietly, rather surprised that he
should be there at that hour of the day; for Mr. Cray's routine of
duties did not lie at the house of Dr. Davenal. "Any bad report for
me?"
Dr. Davenal stood against the wall near the window, looking very
grave in his surprise and, it may be said, vexation. He had never
dreamt of this. Mr. Cray had certainly been intimate with his family;
many an evening when the doctor had been out professionally, Mr.
Cray had spent with them; but he had never given a thought to
anything of this sort arising from it. His connection with Mr. Cray was
a professional connection, and perhaps that fact had blinded his
eyes and kept his thoughts from glancing to the possibility that
anything different might supervene.
"You look grave, Dr. Davenal," said Mr. Cray, breaking the silence,
and retaining, in a remarkable degree, his self-possession.
"Yes," replied the doctor, "for Caroline's sake. Mark, I believe I had
cherished more ambitious dreams for her."
"In time."
"Ay--in time. There it is. How long must you wait for it?"
"Mark, I do not think Caroline is one to rub on, as you call it, so
smoothly as some might, unless fortune is smooth about her.
Remember what your income is."
"It is two hundred a-year," said Mark, pushing his hair from his
brow, and speaking with as much equanimity as though he had said
two thousand. "But I thought perhaps you might be induced to
increase it--for her sake."
Dr. Davenal pulled open the green Venetian blind and threw the
window higher up, as if the air of the room were growing too hot for
him. It was the window--or rather the compartment of it--nearest to
the lane, and the doctor was fond of keeping it a little raised.
Summer and winter would the passers-by see that window raised
behind the green staves of the blind.
Mr. Cray had caught up one of the doctor's pens, and stood
opposite to him picking the feather-end of it off bit by bit. His
attitude was a careless one, and his eyes were bent upon the pen,
as if to pick those pieces off and litter the carpet were of more
consequence than looking at Dr. Davenal. Mr. Cray was inclined to be
easy over most things, to take life coolly, and he was
characteristically easy over this.
"She may come into that fortune yet," said Mr. Cray.
The first gleam of real displeasure shone now in the eyes of the
doctor as he threw them searchingly on his partner. "Have you been
counting upon that?--Is it the inducement which has called forth this
proposal?"
"No," burst forth Mr. Cray, feeling vexed in his turn and speaking
impulsively, as he flung the dilapidated pen back in the inkstand and
drew nearer the doctor. "I declare that I never thought of the money
or the suit; it did not so much as cross my mind; and were Carine
never to have a penny-piece to the end of her life, it would make no
difference. It is her I want; not money."
Dr. Davenal drew in his lips. "Carine!" They must have become
tolerably intimate for him familiarly to call her that. "Pretty Carine"
was her fond name in the household.
"It was Caroline herself who spoke of the money," resumed Mark
Cray. "We were consulting together as to how far my two hundred a-
year would keep us, and she remembered the Chancery suit. 'Mark,'
she said, 'that fortune may come to me, and then we should have no
care.' It was not I who thought of it, Dr. Davenal. And I am sure I
don't count upon it: Caroline herself would be wise not to do so.
Chancery suits generally absorb the oyster and leave the shell for
the claimants."
"I was going to say I have been making love to her ever so long,"
continued Mark, with a laugh. "In fact, sir, we have understood each
other for some time past; but as to the precise period that I actually
spoke out to her by words, I am not sure when it was."
The contrast between the two men was observable in the silence
that ensued. Dr. Davenal grave, absorbed, full of thought and care;
Mr. Cray self-satisfied, looking as if neither thought nor care had ever
come to him, or could come. He lightly watched the passers-by in
the street, over the Venetian blind of the middle window, nodding
and smiling to any acquaintances that happened to appear. Mr. Cray
had made up his mind to marry Miss Caroline Davenal, and it was
entirely out of his creed to suppose that any insurmountable
objection could supervene.
"Do you think so? But, Dr. Davenal, I would be sure to make her
happy. I would spend my life in it: none would make her as happy as
I."
"I had thought--I had thought that another cared for her,"
returned Dr. Davenal, speaking impulsively. "At least, a doubt of it
has sometimes crossed me."
But Dr. Davenal did not satisfy him: not that he had any particular
motive for observing reticence on the point. "It is of no
consequence. I must have been mistaken," was all he said.
"You will not forbid her to me, sir?" pleaded Mr. Cray.
A spasm of pain passed across the face of Dr. Davenal; the words
had called up bitter recollections.
"So long as I live I shall never forbid a marriage to any over whom
I hold control," he said, in a tone of subdued anguish; and Mark
Cray knew where the sting had pointed, and wished in his good-
nature he had not put the question. "I will urge all reflection,
caution, prudence in my power to urge; but I will not forbid. Least of
all have I a right to do so by Caroline."
The younger man's face lighted up. "Then you will give her to me,
Dr. Davenal?"
"I give you no promise," was the doctor's answer. "I must have
leisure to reflect on this; it has taken me entirely by surprise. And I
must speak to Caroline. There's plenty of time. To marry yet would
indeed be premature."
"Premature!" echoed Mr. Cray.
A lady, with a slow walk and pale face, turned in at the front gate.
It was patient the first. Dr. Davenal made no observation; he
scarcely saw her, so deeply had he plunged into thought. Mr. Cray,
who stood closer to the window than a doctor expecting patients
generally does stand, smiled and bowed.
Attentive Neal was heard to come forth instantly from his pantry,
open the door, and show the lady into the dining-room. Then he
made his appearance in his master's room.
"I feel vexed in this first moment, Mark; I can't deny it," was the
candid answer. "It is not altogether that Caroline might have been
expected to do better; it is not exclusively that I think her peculiarly
unfitted for a making-shift life, or that with regard to her I feel my
responsibility is weighty: but it is a mixture of all three."
"I consider you have done wrong to ask for her so prematurely. In
your place, I think I should have waited a little while, until
circumstances had been more propitious."
"And perhaps have lost Caroline!"
"Nay," said the doctor; "a girl that cannot wait, and be true while
she waits, is not worth a brass button."
Mr. Cray went out at the hall-door. Before Neal, who was on the
alert, had shut it, a carriage drove up to the gate, and stopped with
a clatter. A well-appointed close carriage, its servants in claret-
coloured livery, and its claret-coloured panels bearing the insignia of
England's baronetage--the bloody hand.
The footman leaped down for his orders. Mr. Cray, stepping across
the lawn, in too much haste to wind round it by means of the gravel-
path, held out his hand with a smile to its only inmate--a little, grey,
nervous-looking woman, in an old-fashioned purple silk dress.
And Neal, with his quiet, cat-like steps, had followed in the wake
of Mr. Cray, unseen by that gentleman, and stood behind him in his
respectful attention: there might be some message to carry in to his
master--leaving three patients, who had entered the gate together,
to show themselves in alone.
CHAPTER II.
Suddenly there was a scream from the midst of the flowers, and
the young lady on the garden-bench raised her eyes to speak.
She came forth in her beauty, flinging down the flowers she had
gathered, and holding out the back of her hand. A deep scratch lay
right across it.
"Poor hand! Sit still, Carine; it is too hot for anything else today.
What do you want with the flowers, that you need trouble yourself
to get them?"
"I don't know what I want with them. Nothing. Picking them
helped to pass away the time."
"Yes you are, except when the boys are at home. You are noisy
enough then. I shall go and eat some fruit."
Miss Caroline Davenal put her hand into her pocket and could not
find her pencil. "I must have left it somewhere indoors," she said.
"You'll see it if you look."
"What will Mr. Oswald Cray say to your marking his book?"
"Sara, did you know that--that--in short, have you ever observed
that an attachment was arising between Mr. Cray and Caroline?"
Sara looked up, but did not at once reply. The question was one,
put from a father to a daughter, that brought up the blushes on her
cheeks in her maiden modesty.
"My dear, I did not ask you to deceive me," was the grave answer;
"I ask for the truth."
"O papa, you know--you know I would not deceive you," she
replied, quite in distress. And Dr. Davenal, pained by the tone, drew
her to him and kissed her cheek. He knew how good, how loving,
how dutiful, was this daughter of his.
"The real truth is this, papa. Very recently, only since a day or two,
a faint suspicion has arisen in my mind that it might be so. Caroline
has not spoken, and I have had nothing to guide me to it, except
the fact that Mr. Cray is so much here. Indeed, I do not know
whether it is so or not."
It was well that Dr. Davenal's eyes were fixed on the garden, or he
might have wondered at the startled change in his daughter's face.
It had turned of one glowing crimson. She moved again to the table,
and stood there with her back to the light.
"I suppose I was mistaken; that there was nothing in it, Sara?"
"But Mr. Oswald Cray does come here a great deal when he is at
Hallingham?" pursued the doctor, as if willing to debate the question.
The crimson grew deeper. Dr. Davenal did not seem to observe
that there was no answer.
"Do you, papa?" with the blushing face still turned from him.
"Ay, I do. I could have trusted her to Oswald. How could she
choose the other in preference to him?"
Sara lifted her face. Eager words were on her lips--to the effect
that perhaps Mr. Oswald Cray might not have chosen Caroline. But
they died away unspoken.
"I wish you would go and tell her I want her here, Sara."
Sara slipped by the doctor, passed over the cool lawn to the
distant sunny paths, and met her cousin.
"I think," said Sara slowly, scarcely knowing whether she was
doing right to speak or not, "that it is something about Mr. Cray."
Dr. Davenal stood at the glass doors still. He put out his hand as
she approached him.
"I fancied you must have guessed it," was the murmured answer.
"Guessed that! No, child. But the blindness was my own, I believe.
When we ourselves place one view deliberately before us, it tends to
shut out others. I had got it into my head, Carine, that it was to your
score we were indebted for the frequent visits of Mr. Oswald Cray."
Caroline lifted her face, and Dr. Davenal observed how genuine
was the surprise depicted on it. "Uncle Richard!"
"I see. I see now, child, that the idea was void of foundation. But,
Caroline," he gravely added, "I would rather it had been Oswald
than Mark. All the world must respect Oswald Cray."
"Well, well; let us drop Oswald Cray, and return to the point,
Caroline. If"----
The interruption came from Neal. They had not heard him open
the door, and the announcement was the first intimation of his
presence. Of course all private conversation was at an end, and the
doctor half groaned as he turned to Lady Oswald. She came in, her
warm cashmere scarf drawn round her, and her purple gown held up
gracefully on the right side, after the style of walking in the
fashionable world in the days when Lady Oswald was young.
Lady Oswald was one of those imaginary invalids who give more
trouble to their medical attendants than a whole score of patients
with real maladies. Fussy and fidgety, she exacted constant
attendance from Dr. Davenal. She paid him well; but she worried
him nearly out of his life. On his leisure days, when he could really
afford the visit to her, and the quarter-of-an-hour's chat spent in
condoling with her upon her array of ailments and in giving her the
gossip of Hallingham, he spared the time with a good grace; but in a
season of pressure he did chafe at having to pay this daily visit,
when dying men were waiting for him. He had been with her that
morning between ten and eleven: Neal had said she called while he
was out; and now here she was again! Once or twice latterly he had
sent Mr. Cray in his stead, and she had not seemed to object to it.
But she had come for a different object now.
"But you know, Lady Oswald, that I object to your taking red
lavender."
Dr. Davenal, feeling that he had no time for letters or nerves just
then, was yet compelled in good manners to accede. He opened the
note, which was a very short one, and ran his eyes over the
contents; once and then again; the first time he did not quite master
them.
Dr. Davenal folded the letter when read. Lady Oswald looked at
him. "What would you advise me to do?" she asked in a fretful tone.
"From the very first hour that I knew they were carrying that new
line of rail close to your grounds, I felt sure it would prove an
annoyance to you in some shape or other," observed Dr. Davenal,
speaking more to himself than to Lady Oswald. "It is a great pity, but
we all have to submit occasionally to these untoward things, Lady
Oswald, as we go through life."
"I shall not submit to this," she resolutely returned. "They have no
more right to erect sheds on my grounds, than they have to erect
them upon me. I shall forbid it."
"But the power to do so does not lie with you," objected Dr.
Davenal. "You are but a tenant on lease. In point of fact, I do not
suppose such power lies with any one, not even with Low himself.
The railway companies seem to do pretty much as they please in the
kingdom. Mr. Low will be sure to get well paid, and his consent,
according to the tenor of this note, is already given."
Lady Oswald pushed her grey hair nervously from her brow. "Dr.
Davenal, I don't believe that the law has power so to annoy innocent
people and drive them from their homes. Do you know how long I
have lived in that house?"
"A great many years now. Ever since the death of Sir John."
"I have lived in it fourteen years, and I will not be driven forth at
their pleasure. I expected to die in it, and I will die in it. If they
attempt to touch my grounds, I shall have them warned off as
trespassers, and I will keep a couple of policemen on the watch day
and night."
Dr. Davenal did not then dispute the policy of the avowed plan
with her, or point out its futility. In her present mood he knew it
would be useless, even if he had the time, to attempt it.
"Because I am a widow woman they think that they can put upon
me with impunity," she resumed; "but they will find their mistake. I
have telegraphed for Mr. Oswald Cray, and expect him down by
night-time."
"You have telegraphed for him?" cried Dr. Davenal.
"Of course I have. Who else is there to take my part, doctor, save
him or you? That letter was delivered just after you left me this
morning, and I seat to the telegraph at once. Oswald can fight
them; and he has influence: they will be clever to overreach him."
"My dear, why need Miss Carine have run away from me the
moment I came in?"
Sara smiled. "Not from you, Lady Oswald; I think she wanted to
run from us all. And perhaps she thought your visit was only to
papa."
"My dear, of course I should be glad to see her; I wish to pay her
every respect; but--you know it is so great a trial to me--with my
little weak voice. However, I will go up, as I am here. Is her
deafness better?"
"Not at all," was Sara's answer. "I don't suppose it ever will be
better. It gets worse, we think, as she grows old."
CHAPTER III.
Miss Davenal sat in her usual seat near the window, her straight
figure bolt upright, her knitting needles plying fast their work, the
small inlaid table at her right hand holding the open pearl basket of
wool. How many stockings, socks, sleeves, and chest-protectors,
were knitted by Miss Davenal in the course of the year, the poor
alone could tell--for they were the recipients. Hallingham surmised
that she must spend half her income upon wool. There's no doubt
she was a charitable well-meaning woman at heart, but she did not
always show it in her manner.
She need not have added to her height; she was tall enough
without it; as was seen when she rose to receive Lady Oswald. A
straight-down, thin, upright figure, without crinolines or cordings,
her grey damask dress falling in wrapt folds around her as she held
forth her mittened hand.
The tone was unnaturally high: you may have noticed that it is so
sometimes in deaf people. Lady Oswald, with her weak nerves,
would have put her hands to her ears had she done as she liked.
"I am not well today. I am worse than usual. I have had a most
unpleasant shock, Miss Davenal; an upset."
"A what?" cried Miss Davenal, putting her hand to her ear.
"An upset."
"Tell her, Sara," groaned Lady Oswald. "I shall be hoarse for two
days if I call out like this."
"Lady Oswald has had some unpleasant news, aunt. She has
received notice that they are going to run the railway through her
grounds."
"Not through her," said Sara, putting her lips close to the deaf
ears. "Through her grounds."
"But I'd not let them," cried Miss Davenal, hearing now. "I'd not
let them, Lady Oswald."
"I won't," screamed Lady Oswald at the top of her voice. "I have
sent for Mr. Oswald Cray."
Miss Davenal was dubious. "What good will that do? Is it to pelt
upon them? I hate those wicked railways."
"The clay. Didn't you say you had sent for some clay?"
Poor Sara had to do her best. "Not clay, Aunt Bettina; Mr. Oswald
Cray."
Aunt Bettina nodded her stately head. "I like Mr. Oswald Cray. He
is a favourite of mine, Lady Oswald."
"You need not roar out in that way, Sara; I can hear, I hope. I am
not so deaf as all that comes to. What's he prejudiced at?--the
railway? He ought not to be, he is one of its engineers."
"Not Mr. Oswald Cray, aunt. The Oswald family. They are
prejudiced against him."
"I think the world must be coming to an end, with all these rails
and stations and sheds," fretfully spoke Miss Davenal.
"The news has made me ill," said Lady Oswald, who liked nothing
half so well as to speak of her own ailments. "I was getting better,
as Dr. Davenal can tell you, but this will throw me back for weeks.
My maid has been giving me red lavender ever since."
"What is poison?"
"Red lead."
"I said red lavender," cried Lady Oswald. "It is very good for the
spirits: a few drops taken on a lump of sugar. Red lav-en-der."
Miss Davenal resolutely shook her head. "Nasty stuff!" she cried.
"Red lavender never did anybody good yet, Lady Oswald. Leave it
off; leave it off."
Miss Bettina was not in the least grateful for the assistance. She
pushed away her niece with her elbow. It was in fact next to high
treason for Sara to attempt to assist Miss Davenal's deafness. "I
should not allow things to flurry me, Lady Oswald. I never was
flurried in my life."
She rose quickly; she could not stand the interview any longer;
but in spite of the misapprehensions they took leave of each other
cordially. The same scene occurred every time they met: as it did
whenever conversation was attempted with Miss Davenal. It cannot
be denied that she heard better at times than at others, occasionally
tolerably well; and hence perhaps the source, or partially so, of her
own belief that her deafness was but of a slight nature. When alone
with the familiar family voices, and in quiet times, she could hear;
but in moments of surprise and excitement, in paying or receiving
visits, the ears were nearly hopeless.
"Your mistress grows more distressingly deaf than ever, Neal," she
remarked, as he put her dress straight in the carriage, her own
footman resigning the office to him with almost the same submission
that he might have resigned it to Mr. Cray, had the young surgeon
been at hand to assist her in, as he had been to assist her out.
CHAPTER IV.
OSWALD CRAY.
"I can't as much as read the figures," she groaned; "how, then,
am I to add 'em up? Last week there was an overcharge of ten
shillings in this very butcher's book, and my lady found it out, and
hasn't done talking to me for it yet. It isn't my fault; all folks are not
born with a head for figures. And why can't tradespeople make their
figures plain?"
Had she not been so absorbed by the book and its complications
she might have seen the approach of a visitor. A tall and very
gentlemanly man of some eight-and-twenty years, with a
countenance that would have been remarkably frank and pleasing
but for the expression of pride pervading it: nay, that was frank and
pleasing in spite of the pride. He could not help the pride; it was
innate, born with him; he did not make his own face, and the lines
of pride were inherent in it. The pale features were regular, the hair
dark, the eyes dark blue, and lying rather deep in the head, good
and honest eyes they were, searching and truthful: and when he
smiled, as he was smiling now, it made full amends for deficiencies,
obliterating every trace of pride, and imparting a singular charm to
the face.
"No, sir, my lady's out," was the girl's reply, as she dropped a
curtsey. "Parkins is in the drawing-room, sir, I think: I daresay she
can tell whether my lady will be long."
"Oh, sir! how did you come? You must have travelled surely on the
telegraph wires?"
"Not I," answered Mr. Oswald Cray, smiling at her astonishment,
but not understanding its cause. "I left London by rail this morning,
Parkins."
"A telegraph message went up for you an hour or two ago, sir,"
continued Parkins. "My lady has had bad news, sir, and she sent for
you."
"I had no message. I must have left London previously. What bad
news has she had?"
"It's them railway people, sir," explained Parkins. "They have been
writing a letter to my lady--leastways the landlord has--saying that
they are going to take these grounds and build upon them. I haven't
seen her so upset for a long while, sir. When, she got a bit better
from the shock and had sent to the telegraph, she ordered the
carriage, and set off to tell Dr. Davenal."
"I expect her every minute, sir; she has been gone a great deal
longer than I thought she'd be away."
She closed the door, leaving him deep in his parchment. Another
minute, and the carriage was seen bowling quickly up. He went out