His soul was given up to conflict between the almost sacred love he had borne her in all these years and the evil passion which she had now awakened in him.
Extremes touch, and in touching may for a space become confused, indistinguishable.

And the extremes of love and hate were to-night so confused in the soul of Captain Blood that in their fusion they made up a monstrous passion.
Thief and pirate! That was what she deemed him, without qualification, oblivious of the deep wrongs he had suffered, the desperate case in which he found himself after his escape from Barbados, and all the rest that had gone to make him what he was.

That he should have conducted his filibustering with hands as clean as were possible to a man engaged in such undertakings had also not occurred to her as a charitable thought with which to mitigate her judgment of a man she had once esteemed.

She had no charity for him, no mercy.

She had summed him up, convicted him and sentenced him in that one phrase.