---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Palmer, Annie D.
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 20
number: 10
published: 1917-08
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Annie D. Palmer, "The Touch of the Leper," *Improvement Era* 20, no. 10 (August 1917): 892–897.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera20010unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera20010unse
start_page: 892
end_page: 897
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1917-08)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera20010unse
  publication_year: 1917
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1917, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# The Touch of the Leper

<!-- page:892 -->

<!-- Source heading: The Touch of the Leper. -->



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

<!-- page:893 -->



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."

<!-- page:894 -->



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

<!-- page:895 -->



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

<!-- page:896 -->



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.

<!-- page:897 -->



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.
