He does not tell the guests why.

But he takes the wedding party into the pastor's study and there blazes at the bride and groom the long-suppressed truth that they are brother and sister.

Always an orotund man, he has the Chautauqua manner indeed in this exigency.
He brings to one's mind the tearful book, much loved in childhood, Parted at the Altar, or Why Was it Thus?
And four able actors have the task of telling the audience by facial expression only, that they have been struck by moral lightning.

They stand in a row, facing the people, endeavoring to make the crisis of an alleged Ibsen play out of a crashing melodrama.
The final death of young Alving is depicted with an approximation of Ibsen's mood.

But the only ways to suggest such feelings in silence, do not convey them in full to the audience, but merely narrate them.
Wherever in Ghosts we have quiet voices that are like the slow drip of hydrochloric acid, in the photoplay we have no quiet gestures that will do trenchant work.