The Touch of the Leper · Improvement Era

The Touch of the Leper By Annie D. Palmer The man walked with bowed head. The class-room dis- cussion had convinced him almost beyond the shadow of a doubt that his wife's suffering was the direct result of his sin. The thought was bitter. That every act of folly or vice must be atoned for somewhere, he understood; but that his wife should suffer for his weakness, was a thought wholly new to him. Four years ago he had married Myra Morgan. She was then one of the most popular girls in the state university. She was a leader in her class work, a leader in social activities, a leader in school patriotism. Every line and movement of her graceful form, spoke health and perfect womanhood. Her voice and smile shed constant happiness. Myra might probably have had her pick of the hundreds of young men who daily met her in halls and class rooms; besides it was well known, that in her little home town Paul Harmon was waiting for her, and that Paul was a man of no mean attraction as a man. In choosing as she did Myra had disregarded the teachings of her Church and set aside the wishes of her parents. The man realized now that her preference for him had been the result of show — of superficial recitations, expensive clothes, frequent treats, and motor trips that he never paid for. Eighteen months after they were married he had left her and their little son, to attend a medical college in Chicago. Away from her and the influence of her purity, he had fallen a victim to influences of evil so unceremoniously thrust before the stranger in a big city. When the first year's work was done he had gone home for vacation, and because Myra wished it, he had brought her and the boy with him to Chicago and rented a little flat for light housekeeping. Soon his wife's health began to fail. At first she thought the climate was not agreeing with her, and began to talk of going home; then it was the climbing of stairs; then her diet, or the drinking water. Vainly she groped about trying to lo- cate the cause, while steadily she grew weaker, and her pain and suffering increased. She never went out now and was scarcely able to attend to the simple duties of her home and child. *This story received first place in the May Era story contest

THE TOUCH OF THE LEPER 893 And the man walked with bowed head, thinking. Over and over again there came to his mind the words of Dr. Her- rick: "These diseases, which are a curse beyond the power of words to express, are transmittable even in the early stages; and so the immorality of man is often visited with most terrible consequence upon women who are innocent." It occurred to his mind that somewhere here was the office of Dr. Schill, one of the best specialists of the great city. Julian Clare sought him, and after long and tiresome waiting, obtained an interview. When the great physician had gone into the minutest detail of the case by serious cmestioning, he said: "Yes, your suspicions are doubtless correct. It is the touch of the leper." "You mean, doctor — M "The moral leper, than which none is more terrible." "You will prescribe?" asked Mr. Claire. "I will operate. You have children?" "One — a beautiful boy of two years." "It always makes me feel sad to see a home in which there is an only child, when there should be other children; but it cannot be otherwise. You understand?" "Yes," the man answered huskily, "I understand." "You will tell your wife?" "Great heavens, man, I cannot. She must never know." The doctor was silent for the space of many minutes, during which the heart of the man beat wildly. "On one condition," the doctor .aid at last, will I consent to keep silent; that on the day your son is eighteen years of age vou will tell him all. It can really do the little woman no good to know the awful truth; but her boy must be warned. "I promise to tell him," sobbed the man bitterly, before God I solemnly promise." Myra was lying on the couch when her husband entered the apartment, and today she did not arise to greet him; but she put out her hand to clasp his in tender pressure, and smiled in the old sweet way. "I am so glad you have come, Julian. Little . Diek^ and I are so lonely. Do you know, dear, I sometimes wish little Dick were a twin." . lf ., "Why do you wish that?" The man forced a half snule _ "So he would be less louely, and I more mo herly I do no, think, dear, that any normal woman can be ^^j"^ with an only child. She wants a family-at _ lea*t 1 do liKe a mothcrV old hen, whose cluck is answered by a brood of bid dies."

894 IMPROVEMENT ERA He kissed her tenderly and turned to Dick to hide his tears. "Say your little piece to papa, darling," the mother said as he held the baby on his knee. The laughing little youngster cuddled down in his father's arms, and lisped in baby accents: If we had a baby brother, 'Stead of only me, Four of us could love each other, 'Stead of only three. If we had a lot of babies, Four, or six, or nine, Glad and jolly all together, Wouldn't that be fine? "That night when Dick slept peacefully in his crib, Julian Clare carefully explained to his wife the need of an operation — a rather serious operation — that would restore her to health. She could not understand then, and he never explained why he should lose his nerve and cry like a hurt child; but she at- tributed it to his tenderness and sympathy. A few days later while Julian stood watching the operation with most fearful suspense, the earnest old specialist pronounced curses upon a civilization that permitted such conditions to exist. The wretched husband felt as though the spirit of the unconscious Myra looked into the depths of his soul and under- stood. "It is the scourge of the age." The doctor spoke slowly and with impressive emphasis. "Trusting women meet it, and innocent, unsuspecting girls. Fiends, under the guise of men, carry it upon their lips, and convey it with a kiss to the lips of women they pretend to love. Lustful devils transmit it to their offspring, where it is manifested in deformities, in feeble-mind- edness, in loss of sight. And knowing the terrible consequences of their vileness, these moral lepers still seek the haunts where innocence and virtue congregate. I have seen them in dance halls, dressed in the best clothes that fashion dictates, in form so rotten outside and in, that I would not permit my dog to rub against them, lest my child in petting the dog should be con- taminated. "I imagine that spirits in heaven that are waiting to take earthly bodies, shudder at the mere possibility of parentage so cursed with disease ; and all that are purest and best among these spirits, must shrink away in utter disgust." The conscience of the man smote him, until he stood a quiv- ering thing, ready to drop down in the presence of the aveng- ing angel. Dr. Schill noticed that he could stand no more, and ordered him from the room. Thus, in the torments of hell and the silence near to death, Julian Clare was taught the lesson of

THE TOUCH OF THE LEPER 895 social purity, which he should have learned in the days of dawning manhood. When Dick had reached the age of eighteen his father, who should have been in the very prime of life, was already an old man. They who consume life's energies fast can scarcely hope to continue long; and Julian Clare had been too profligate of his strength to hold much vitality in reserve. In view of the awful result of his lust, he had summoned enough manhood to alter his course in that regard ; but he allowed the drink habit to grow, and so went steadily down and down. By taking an extra year for his medical studies, he got through, some way; and returning to his own state set up prac- tice in a rather progressive little town. Here he became popular at once and for a time the practice was good; but it fell off rapidly when people began to know about the drink habit. Who would trust the intricate problems of human life to the crazy machinations of alcohol? Had his life continued on in this way it is probable that he would have forgotten his promise to the old physician re- garding little Dick. But he fell ill suddenly and in a few hours was seriously, desperately ill. Pneumonia had come upon him like an avenging fury, and knowing to what extent alcoholism had ravaged his strength, he realized that his chance was meager. Myra sat by his side or moved about to serve him like a ministering angel. He asked her to send Dick and leave them for a while together. And then in shame and humiliation and sorrow, pausing frequently for breath, and frequently to dry the rush of tears — he told Dick. And Dick with rising anger and indignation heard the confession of the man who had wrecked his mother's happiness and almost ended her life; that man, his father. The boy wondered no longer, as he had often wondered, why his mother was always sad. He questioned no more his being the only child. Nor did he think it strange that so early in life, her hair was showing streaks of gray. He sobbed aloud as his father dwelt upon the hospital incident, and his anger melted into pity as the dying man depicted his own suffering. Myra remained in the adjoining room until the feeble voice was still and only the sobbing of Dick was audible. Then she opened the door softly and went in. Dick sat with his head in his hands, weeping: Julian lav with closed eyes, his hands folded across his breast. Two days later they laid him away in the little churchyard. Tt was Dick's birthday. He was eighteen.

A sweet-faced woman of more than middle life sat making button holes in a pink frock for one of her grandchildren. Her form was erect nnd sparkling. Her hair was white but soft and

896 IMPROVEMENT ERA wavy, and set off the delicate pink of her cheeks like a band of silver encircling pearls. Her neat house dress and dainty sew- ing apron were in perfect keeping with the beauty and order of her surroundings. The afternoon sun falling aslant through filmy curtains, fell on her face and hair like a halo. Presently an elderly gentleman, with firm tread and digni- fied bearing came up the walk. The woman arose and greeted him warmly, and invited him into the cosy sitting room. Then she returned to her chair in the halo of the sunshine. "It is good to see you again, Myra, after all these years," said the man. "It's like getting back into the old sweet days of long ago. Your life has been happy?" "It has had its shadows, Paul. Every mistake we make has to be atoned for some how or other, and I have made a good many." "You mean that you have suffered much. Poor girl!" "But I have Dick," she hastened to explain, "yes, I have Dick. He is married but he lives here just next door. He and his wife are so good to me, and I don't know how I should live without his boys. There are four of them, the brightest, manli- est, little youngsters you ever saw. Dick writes and lectures a great deal on social reform subjects. You may have heard of him." "Richard Clare?" "Yes, we always call him Dick. I don't know how he ever got so much enthusiasm on the subject, but if he hears of a boy within a hundred miles that needs to be taught morality, Dick goes to him. I have known him to leave his hay right in the midst of cutting, to spend the afternoon traveling to fill an ap- pointment in some village where a half dozen boys would come to hear him talk. He is called into clubs and reform commit- tees, and churches; and always he is the same fearless advocate of a standard of morals that shall require men as well as women to be pure. Oh, Paul, if there could ever be compensation for being denied other children, the compensation is in having one boy like Dick. I am so proud of him, Paul, so proud of my splendid boy!" "You have just cause," the man assured her. "But tell me about yourself, Paul — and your family." "My family consists of about two hundred white hens, a span of coal black horses, and the dog." "You never married?" "I have seen but one woman that I wanted to marry. Per- haps you remember that she refused me." A girlish blush overspread the face of Myra Clare, as she vividly recalled the time when Paul Harmon proposed to her. "Yes, I remember," she answered.

THE TOUCH OF THE LEPER 897 "That woman remained the idol of my dreams. Her image had so enshrined itself in my heart that there was place for no other. When I worked, it was with the thought that she might some time need help; when I saved, I felt that some time she might enjoy. Myra, I have a good home and ample means, but I need that woman now more than I have ever needed her be- fore. . "Your idol was a young woman, Paul, with vigor and charm; she is an elderly matron now, fifty-four years old. You would be disappointed in her." "It is true, Myra, that the woman has grown older, but each vear has added sweetness and dignity to her, while it has intensi- fied the regard in which I have always held her. I dearly loved the girl, Myra; I think I idolize the woman. If I should pro- pose to her again, do you think she would again refuse me? "I think, maybe, she would have better sense by this time the woman answered; and they both laughed heartily as each met the other's honest eyes. ,,,'., u tu.™ There were no fond kisses and no love-like embrace, there might have been both, had not Dick appeared on the scene just at that moment. u„u,r "Mother!" he called from the kitchen, "we have a new baby at our house—a fine baby girl, and we are going to call her Myra, after you." "An doing well, Dick?" "Just splendid," Dick answered as he came in. ^ "Meet Mr. Harmon, Dick, an old friend of mine. "And your mother, Mr. Clare, is an old sweetheart of mine. 1 came in from the far West on purpose to see her. A month later Mrs. Myra Clare and Paul Harmon were nuietlv married. To onlookers who were very young, the couple ^peaLd somewhat past the time for love and ™*^£ T2f such remember that they ^^ £^™\± are never very old. Besides, mest- wcio rw i„f,.,i 1 he course of time called eternity, and it was for such wonderful period of time that they were united. Provo, Utah Great Salt Lake Serener skies the eye ne'er sees, Nor clearer waves rise in the breeze, Nor sinks the sun o'er other sea. In brighter flames, than color thee.-U-. «• A.