It's best that the girl is gone, Rumpelstiltskin thinks and thinks again as the wheel spins. She was a nuisance, a whim, a betrayer at worst and a weakness at the very best (or was it the other way around?). The castle does well without her, without her dusting, without her sweeping and mopping and smiling and their little conversations.
Yes, the castle does well indeed.
She'll do better, too, he thinks sometimes, letting the wheel slow down and the straw turn to ashes. In her home, with her people and her pretty clothes.
Yes, it's best that she's gone.