They are going to die that Jenny may live.
Strange, this gentle heroism of human creatures one for the other.

Would it be unfair to ask that each should support the anguish of his own destiny, and that when Jenny's turn has come she should take her lightning?
Hers, had she known it, was the cup of anguish here; for Theophil and Isabel had been decreed the cup of joy.

But will they drink it?
No, they will change the cups; perhaps the bitter cup will grow sweet near the dregs, being drunk together.
Yet this love of theirs, this perilous chance for Jenny, was none of their making.

Their joy had been given to them by unseen hands.

It is fairly theirs.